The World As We Know It
by CakeTops
Summary: Newt is 17 and has a lot of things going on for him; he has a wonderful brother in Theseus; he has a sort-of best friend in Leta and he has a plan for the future. What he doesn't have is a crush on the new DADA Professor…no matter what Leta says. Slash. Teacher-Student relationship. MOD!Harry. Time Travel. Newt/Harry.
1. Chapter 1: Professor Evans

Newt is 17 and has a lot of things going on for him; he has a wonderful brother in Theseus; he has a sort-of best friend in Leta and he has a plan for the future. What he doesn't have is a crush on the new DADA Professor…no matter what Leta says. Slash. Teacher-Student relationship. Newt/Harry.

 **A/N:** This chapter has been reviewed and doubled in length compared to the first version. More details have been added to make the story flow better.

Timeline: The first world war started in 1914. Newt is around 17 in 1914 so I changed his age to 17 instead of leaving it at 16.

* * *

 **Chapter 1 Professor Evans**

* * *

Newt Scamander had just turned 17 and is in a pretty good place in life...if he did say so himself.

He has a caring mother - whose love for magical creatures nearly rivals his own.

He has a protective older brother - who taught him things about magic that they didn't really touch upon in school.

And he even had a good friend - who actually sat with him during meals and did not laugh at him for wanting to become a Magizoologist instead of something more socially acceptable.

Newt Scamander was content and did not need the attentions of the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher to feel happy...no matter what Leta thought.

* * *

"Here's a crazy idea," says Leta Lestrange, her voice dry as sand. She blows on her nails, making sure the polish is applied correctly before finishing her thought. "Why don't you go over there and talk to him…instead of doing whatever-this-is."

Next to her, 17 years old Newt Scamander - fresh faced and innocent, right in the middle of an awkward stage where he is simultaneously too old to be called a boy and yet too young to be treated like a man - startles horribly at her suggestion and nearly knocks over a pitcher of pumpkin juice in his haste to turn around in his seat.

"What?" he squeaks, eyes wide and heart thumping. He could already feel droplets of sweat making their way down the open collar of his white shirt. "What are you talking about? Talking to who? You're not making any sense."

Leta rolls her eyes at him, her disdain for his poor attempt at a denial obvious on her pretty face.

"I hate to pop your bubble," she says, flipping a strand of her long black hair over her shoulder in the same way Newt has seen many Pureblood heiresses do. Newt guesses that it was their I'm-better-then-you-in-every-way flip. "Merlin knows how much you depend on that thing to get through your pathetic excuse of an existence."

The second part was said in an undertone, but Newt is close enough to be able to make out the words perfectly.

"Hey," he protests hotly and Leta smiles sweetly at him, a vision of pure innocence Newt knows very well she is not.

"I'm just saying," Leta continues, not bothering to apologize for her caustic remark. "You can just go over there and talk to him. He is a teacher after all."

Newt bites his lips nervously, eyes unconsciously trailing back to the Head Table where Professor Harold Evans - the newest addition to Hogwart's staff - was having his dinner. Newt tries not to let his gaze linger on the new teacher's sun-kissed skin, elegant fingers, or his understanding and caring smile, but feels himself losing the battle pretty fast.

He sighs, defeated.

He turns back to Leta and sees her looking at him, a smirk tugging the corner of her lips upwards. She doesn't even have to say I-told-you-so out loud for the message to come across loud and clear.

"And if," Newt mumbles, hoping that no one was listening in on this conversation. He is already embarrassed enough as it is. "And I am saying a big if."

He pauses and Leta glares at him, looking as if she wanted to strangle him.

Newt ignores it and soldiers on.

"If I knew who you were talking about, how, do you think, I should approach this?"

"Introduce yourself as a member of his class of course," Leta answers in an are-you-stupid tone. Newt is unfortunately very familiar with that tone of hers considering how many times she had used it on him. "Why is this so hard for you?"

"It's just…" Newt looks down to the table, unable to explain why, for him, the simple thought of actually starting a conversion with Professor Harold Evans, prodigious Dueler and one of the best DADA teachers Newt has ever had, is enough to make his face flush and his heart rate go up the roof.

"So what you have a crush on the guy," Leta says distractedly, her attention having moved from Newt to the Slytherin's table. "A lot people have crushes on him and you don't see them breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of talking to him."

"Wait," Newt blinks, momentarily taken aback by her words, "I don't have a crush on him."

At her disbelieving snort, he adds: "It's called admiration Leta. Surely you have experienced something of the sort before."

Leta sneers at the very thought.

"Admiration?" she laughs. It isn't exactly a nice sound. "I don't admire people Newt. Admiring someone means admitting that they have something that I don't. As you should know by now, I can't think of anyone who falls in to that category."

A first year Hufflepuff, who had coincidentally walked by their table at that moment, stops in her tracks upon overhearing Leta's words, throws the witch a disproving glance before hurrying along once more.

Newt pretends not to notice.

"Well, that's just you," he says, already used to his friend's attitude.

To say that Leta Lestrange is vain is like saying the sun is hot; something that most people just took for granted these days. Although Newt had never liked this part of her, he knows that Leta isn't arrogant without reason. After all, she had always been a pretty girl whom puberty has turned in to a stunning young woman. She was magically gifted and hailed from an old and noble family. Anyone in her situation would have the tendency to look down on others.

"Whatever," Leta lets out a small breath and stands up, her hands automatically straightening her uniform skirt as she did, "It's been fun Newton, but it is time for me to make my exit."

Newt looks at her in confusion before glancing towards the Slytherin table where a bunch of Leta's Slytherin friends were gesturing her over to sit with them.

"It's only been 10 minutes," he says softly, hoping that was enough to make her stay with him a little longer. During diner, she usually takes pity on him and sits with him for at least 15 minutes - just in time for him to finish eating - before leaving.

"10 minutes is already long enough," Leta gives him a small condescending smile before adding, "I do have other friends, you know."

The comment hits him like a slap in the face.

"S…Sure," he forces a smile, "Sorry to have kept you."

Leta pats his cheek like a person would with a pet before turning on her heels and making her way to her own House table, not even deigning Newt with a second look.

Newt tries his best not to feel hurt by her actions and instead concentrates on finishing his diner.

* * *

The next day, Newt finds Leta in the courtyard, relaxing under a tree, a textbook resting on her lap. Upon seeing him, the girl smiles and invites him to sit next to her, acting as if she hadn't cruelly dismissed him the evening before.

Newt does so because despite his hurt and misgivings, Leta is still his only friend here at Hogwarts and someone who hasn't called him weird for his love of magical creatures. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he was willing to put up with her caustic words and uncaring attitude.

"Hi Leta," he greets her, voice soft. He sits down, using his empty bag as a makeshift cushion.

"So," Leta glances him, her gaze calculating, "Have you talked to him yet?"

This time, he doesn't even bother to pretend not knowing who she was talking about.

"No," he shakes his head, "I don't have Defense until Thursday and it would be weird to intrude upon him just to say hi."

Leta doesn't seem at all impressed by his logic.

"Newton dear," she says, her voice sugary-sweet, staring at him in the eyes. "Are you a moron? He has office hours you know. Just go to one of them. In fact, the next one, according to my syllabus, is in 15 minutes. If you go now, you can definitely make it on time. Besides, maybe after talking to him, you will feel less of a need to stare at him from afar like some kind of stalker."

"Excuse me," Newt huffs in indignation, "I don't stalk him. And I don't stare at him."

"Whatever gets you through the day," Leta sighs and turns away.

Newt suddenly feels a ball of anxiety slowly making its way up his throat.

"Do I really stare that much?" he asks hesitantly, "Do you think he noticed me looking from time to time?"

Leta picks up her textbook and flips to a page she had bookmarked before answering: "Why are you asking me? Shouldn't you know this better then anyone else?"

She begins to read, ignoring Newt next to her.

"Well, it's not-" Newt tries to say but was interrupted.

"Go talk to him Scamander," Leta orders, eyes blazing with annoyance as she looks up from her reading, "Look. If you don't have anything to ask him, you can take my question and ask it for me."

Newt feels his body relax at that.

Maybe Leta is right; maybe this is a good opportunity to establish contact.

"You will do that for me?" he asks dubiously.

"I will do anything for you," Leta replies in her don't-be-naif-you'll-owe-me-big-for-this tone.

Newt nods in understanding and Leta digs out a piece of parchment from her bag.

"I've written down some points he touched upon in class regarding different types of magical shielding spells, but I would like some more details. Here are the questions and make sure you actually take down his answer and not just gawk at him while he speaks."

Newt carefully stores the parchment in his pocket and casts a tempus spell.

"10.15," he says a little unsteadily. "I better go."

Leta doesn't reply, her focus back on her textbook.

Newt gets up and dusts off his robes. He hopes he looks somewhat presentable.

"Wish me luck," he says.

"Whatever."

Newt sighs and starts to make his way back to the school proper.

* * *

Despite having never been to Professor Evan's office, Newt still finds it pretty easily after a fellow Hufflepuff told him to look for the door with the huge line of students in front.

He really hadn't been kidding when he had put a big emphasis on the word huge.

"Oh another one?" says a girl when Newt takes a place behind her in line. She seems to be Newt's age, with curly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. She did not look happy to see him. "Do you have a question or are you here to make nice with Professor Evans."

Newt nearly chokes on thin air.

What kind of question was that?

"W…What?" he stutters and the girl sighs, taking pity on him.

"Look, you don't have to be embarrassed. Most of the students lining up are here for Professor Evans and not for Defense," she explains, her tone much less hostile, "Professor Evans hadn't been voted the most eligible bachelor in Hogwarts for nothing."

"He has?" Newt blinks. When did people have time to organize and vote for that? After all, they were only 2 month in to the term.

"Yes he has," the girl answers before looking about herself like she was searching for eavesdroppers. Once satisfied that no one was paying them any attention, she moves closer to Newt and whispers, "But that's not the whole story. Apparently, there have been rumors that Professor Evans is not muggle-born as he claims to be, but actually a descendant of one of the Founders."

Newt's eyes widens in surprise.

That had not been what he had expected her to say. A founder's descendant? Really? Where do people come up with ideas like this? Who would be naif enough to think that someone called Evans could actually be related to one of the founders?

"Hah," Newt pretends to nod in interest, "That's interesting. Do they have any proof?"

He would probably die of shock if they had.

"Who knows," the girl shrugs, looking unconcerned by his reaction or lack thereof, "It's a rumor after all. But it is enough for students already of marriageable age to try to ensnare him in to proposing."

"Surely not," Newt chokes out. All that based on a rumor?

"But don't get your hopes up," his companion says, misreading his expression, "Professor Evans is notorious for rejecting anyone who has propositioned him so far. He says it's because he feels uncomfortable dating a student regardless of whether such relationships were allowed."

"That's…understandable," Newt forces a smile. "Thank you for telling me, but I'm not here to try to date him. I'm in his Thursday class and I really do have questions to ask him regarding the material."

"Oh!" the young witch blushes a fetching shade a red, and takes a step back, looking horrified at her own presumptions. "I'm so sorry. I thought-"

She doesn't finish her sentence because at that moment, the door to the office opens and the man of the hour steps in to the corridor.

Professor Evans looks startled by the large turnout but recovers remarkably in a matter of seconds.

"I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or offended that so many of you have shown up to ask me questions," he laughs and the crowd of students laughs obligingly with him. "Unfortunately, I only have an hour and if I want to give each student at least 10 minutes, I can't attend to you all."

This led to a chorus of disappointed groans from his adoring public.

Newt is disappointed as well and wonders if all the courage he had build up to come here would be wasted. If he cannot speak to Professor Evans today, he doubt he'll be brave enough to attempt another meeting any time soon.

Professor Evans must have misread the source of everyone's disappointment because he turns to his left where a black haired young man had appeared, books in hand.

"Everyone, this is Jonathan. He's my assistant. He will be helping me answer some of your questions so be assured no one will be left out."

"But Professor," a blonde student protests from the line. "We came here to see you."

A huge number of students behind her echoes her sentiment while Newt actually flushes in second-hand embarrassment at her forwardness.

Luckily, Professor Evans remains calm and collected, like a politician in front of a crowd of media personnel.

"That is very kind of you to say, Ms…"

"Johnson," the girl answers, "Anna Johnson. I'm in your Wednesday class."

Wednesday, Newt thinks, that means she's a Gryffindor. No wonder she is so blunt with her thoughts.

"Well Ms. Johnson, I hope I don't dissapoint too many people by proposing a lottery system."

"A lottery system?" the crowd asks.

"I will think of 6 numbers between 1 and 100. Each one of you will try to guess it. If you get it right, you get to see me. If you get it wrong, Jonathan here can help you with your question. Is that okay?"

"That sounds fair," Anna agrees and immediately guesses, "77."

Professor Evans shakes his head to indicate that the answer is wrong before turning to the next person in line.

Ms. Johnson, to her credit, doesn't even try to pretend she was actually here for schoolwork because the moment she was told she won't be able to see Professor Evans, she leaves in a huff.

After her, 14 other people who got the answer wrong left as well, making a nearby Jonathan shift awkwardly.

Then it was Newt's turn.

"Hello there," Professor Evans says, coming to stand in front of Newt. The young man looks up at him, heart pounding, unable to believe that he was finally in front of Professor Evans.

"H…Hi," he mumbles, unable to look at the older man in the eye.

Professor Evans doesn't seem to be offended by this and says: "I don't believe we have ever been introduced. What is your name?"

Newt is too distracted by the teacher's close proximity to even notice the special attention bestowed upon him. However, a few students waiting for their turn behind Newt notices and in response, starts to whisper among themselves, their half-envious and half-intrigued gazes fixated firmly on Newt.

"Newton Scamander," Newt manages to answer without stuttering. His heart is still pounding loudly in his ears but he's happy to note that he was no longer feeling as if he was about to faint any moment now. In fact, he even manages to add: "I am a member of your Thursday class."

"Nice to know," Professor Evans nods, actually sounding as if he had meant it. "And what is your guess Newt?"

Newt blinks at the abrupt change in topic.

"The number," the teacher clarifys and Newt could swear he heard someone laughing in the background.

"Oh. Ehh…" Newt clears his throat. "7, sir."

Professor Evans beams at him.

"That is a good guess Newt. You may join the other 4 in front of my office door."

Without another word, Professor Evans moves on to the next person in line and Newt makes his way to the front dazedly.

* * *

The first student to enter the office leaves after 6 minutes. The second leaves after 7. The third after 8, the fourth after 9 and the fifth after 5.

When Newt enters the office, it was barely 35 past 11.

"Mr. Scamander," Professor Evan greets him with a smile, looking absurdly handsome and regal in his seat behind his huge mahogany writing desk, "Please do sit down. You must be tired after standing outside for so long."

Newt is indeed a little tired but he hides it behind a shy smile.

"Of course not," Newt replies quickly, taking the offered seat, unable to believe that he was actually in the Professor's office, talking to the man with a familiarity that a first meeting shouldn't, in theory, allow. "Thank you for seeing me sir."

"Call me Harry," Prof-no, Harry says and waves his right hand in an elegant arc.

Two tea cups immediately materializes in thin air and Newt gapes a little at Harry's effortless display of wandless magic.

Although Newt knows a few other wizards - Leta for example - who can do some form of magic without the usage of a magical focus, he had never seen it done on such a large scale. Before today, Newt had thought that being able to summon a quill wandlessly was impressive. Now, he could see how laughable that belief was.

"Tea Newt?" Harry asks, as if he hadn't just turned Newt's world upside down.

Newt nods numbly.

"I like Black tea most of all," Harry admits, taking a box of tea leaves from his desk drawer, "But green is good too. What do you prefer?"

"Green is fine," Newt says quickly, "Thank you."

"No need to be so formal Newt," Harry smiles and gestures for the teapot to start pouring piping hot water in to the cups. "I like to provide my students with an easygoing environment in which they can feel free to tell me anything."

"That is a novel approach," Newt remarks, thinking of the other teachers and how they insist on creating this divide between them and the students.

Harry nods his head in agreement.

"I try not to do things by the book."

He takes a sip of his beverage, spluttering and cursing when the liquid burns his tongue.

"Merlin's balls," Harry hisses and Newt stares in shock before unable to resist a snort of laughter.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly, hoping he had not offended the older man, "I didn't mean to-"

"Oh posh," Harry says, swatting the apology away with a hand, "Don't apologize if you don't mean it. And besides, it's my fault for forgetting myself for a moment."

He sighs deeply.

Newt blinks in confusion but does not ask for a clarification.

"So Newt," When Harry turns to look at him again, Newt notices that his green eyes were almost luminescent under the warm light of the overhead lamp, "What questions have you brought me today?"

"Oh!" Newt hurriedly extracts his notes from his pocket, "I…um…have a question about shields."

"You want to know more then what I covered in class?" Harry sounds surprised. "Do you want to be an Auror, Newt?"

"No," Newt admits shyly after a moment's hesitation, "That…um…is not something I see myself doing."

For some reason, Harry nods in approval, as if that was the answer he had been looking for. It doesn't really make any sense in Newt's mind. Shouldn't all DADA teachers want their students to become Aurors?

"And what is something you want to do once you graduate?"

"A magizoologist," Newt answers and waits for the confused look that would inevitably pop up on his interlocutor's face whenever he uses this word.

Harry, once again, does not fall in to the norm.

"Oh," the teacher says, looking delighted and perhaps just a tad fond, "So you like magical creatures."

"Yes I do," Newt looks at him in amazement, "You know what a magizoologist is?"

"Isn't it fairly obvious?" Harry looks confused by his response, "A zoologist who deals with magical creatures."

"Most people don't react like that," Newt admits, a small blush on his face.

"And how do they react?" Harry asks, intrigued.

"They tell me to stop inventing words," Newt replies. "And once I explain to them what it means, they tell me to pursue something more acceptable in today's society."

"Well that's just hogwash," Harry suddenly stands up, indignation coloring his next words, making them louder, "Don't listen to them Newt. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders. If you believe this is your destiny then go for it. Screw what other people think. What do they know anyways?"

Newt is unsurprisingly taken aback by the magnitude of Harry's reaction. Not even his own mother had been so angry on his behalf, he thinks, more then a little touched.

It encourages him to continue talking.

"Even Theseus claims it's stupid," he says, "And he's my brother."

"Ah, yes of course." A flash of recognition passes through Harry's face. "The war hero."

The War Hero. The only thing people nowadays think of when they mention Theseus Scamander's name.

The War Hero. The wizard who, despite all odds stacked against him, had managed to save an entire town from enemy fire; all during a war started by muggles, whom most wizards and witches, unintentionally or not, saw as the inferior race.

"I don't think that title is something Mother likes to hear. Mother hadn't been too happy when he told us about his decision to enlist," Newt admits quietly, not knowing why he is telling a teacher about something so personal but somehow feels it is something he could say in this strange bubble of intimacy they have created. He takes a shuddering breath before continuing. "and when he left, she just broke down. It's been a few month since the start of hostilities and consequently my brother's deployment and she still cries sometimes, already thinking that she had lost him for good."

Harry, to his credit, only looks understanding and sympathetic instead of awkward and uncomfortable as most people do when the topic of death is brought up.

"I can understand her pain," Harry response quietly, in the tone of someone who has already suffered much and was doing all they can to survive each day, "Losing a loved one is a terrible experience."

He pauses, gaze distant and Newt waits patiently for him to return to reality. He wonders, at that moment, just what kind of past Professor Evans is hiding. Does he also have relatives fighting in this war; a solider on the front lines, risking life and limb for a cause they barely understand?

"War is a terrible thing," Harry says finally, returning his gaze back to Newt. His tone lightens up remarkably as he says: "But personally, I think her grieving is a little premature. From what I've heard of Theseus, he's an incredibly powerful wizard."

Although Harry had not been here long enough to have taught Theseus personally, Newt isn't surprised that the older man knew about his big brother's achievements from his Hogwarts days. After all, Theseus Scamander was the pride of many teachers here in school; a natural born leader; a rare magical powerhouse; a intellectual savant; a trusted friend. No matter whom you asked about Theseus, they all had wonderful things to say about him.

"He is," Newt agrees, feeling a little better, thinking of the many Dueling competition trophies that still decorated his brother's bedroom. If there was one person Newt knew that could survive a war then it was Theseus. The man was like a cockroach in the best way; no matter how much you try to step on him, he will always come roaring back, stronger then ever. "That's what I've been telling Mother as well. Theseus is strong and resourceful. He won't die that easily."

"That's the spirit," says Harry, looking slightly relieved that Newt was no longer looking so solemn. He claps his hands to clear the air and continues. "But back to our original topic - yes Newton, don't think I've forgotten because of your little attempt at changing the topic."

Newt blushes at his teacher's accusative words.

"It wasn't-" he tries to protest but stops when he realizes that Harry was just messing with him. "Hah...funny."

Harry chuckles, leaning back in his chair, the very image of a young lord holding court.

"What I have been trying to get across to you, Newt, is to not give up on your dream just because people can't see the merit in it."

"I believed that once," Newt sighs, giving in to the flow. "But with so many people saying otherwise, I am beginning to doubt myself. Sometimes, I find myself thinking "Maybe I should I follow Theseus' example and-"

"Don't even think of that," Harry interrupts, an almost panicked look in his eyes. "Being an Auror is who Theseus Scamander is. Being a Magizoologist is who Newt Scamander is destined to be. Don't mess with Destiny Newt. Bad things can happen."

Newt blinks up at him, not knowing whether to be happy or a little disturbed by his words.

"How about we make a bet?" Harry suddenly offers when Newt doesn't immediately say something.

"A bet?" Were teachers even allowed to bet with students? None of the other teachers have ever suggested something as ludicrous as this so unless Newt spends the next few hours going through the Hogwarts rule book, he'll probably never know the answer.

"A bet."

Newt cocks his head in confusion.

"What kind of bet?"

Harry grins, looking more like a playful child then a man in his mid-thirties.

"Easy. I bet you that in the future, Scamander will be a household name not because of Theseus Scamander's accomplishments but because of what Newt Scamander has contributed to society."

Newt shakes his head, laughing a little. And here he had thought the teacher was serious.

"That's impossible," he says with the confidence of someone who has never been the subject of anyone's pride, "If I agree to bet with you, you'll lose for sure. I can't see any conceivable way I can become famous."

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "But thank you for believing in me. Not many people do."

Harry looks unperturbed by his reaction.

"Of course I am not going to stand by and let you walk on this road alone," he says, gaining momentum, "I'm going to help you."

"What?" This situation, thinks Newt, has officially gone out of hand.

"I'm going to teach you some spells that will help you in your quest to become the best Magizoologist the world has ever seen."

By the way Harry had said that last sentence, Newt can't help but feel there was a cultural reference in there he wasn't getting.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and return them to the focus of Harry's words.

"You're going to tutor me?"

"Yes Newt," Harry answers, winking at him, "But this has to remain between us. Technically, I am not supposed to be teaching you things not approved by the Board but I can't bear to see so much potential gone to waste."

 _What potential?_ Newt thinks in confusion. A few minutes ago, Harry hadn't even known who he was and now he's saying that Newt had some hidden potential? How in Merlin's name had Newt managed to convince him of that?

Harry, obvious to Newt's inner monologues, claps his hands and everything on the table vanishes except for a piece of parchment.

"This is a charmed parchment," he explains, handing the item to Newt. The young man takes in the intricate runes drawn on the yellowed surface and can't help but be impressed, yet again, by Harry' advanced knowledge of magic.

"What does this do?"

"It's a communication device," Harry explains, taking out a similar parchment from his pocket, "It's charmed so that when you write something on your side, I will see it on mine. The reverse is also true of course. We can set up our sessions in this way."

"Eh...thank you?" He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but his confusion made it so. Was it Harry's habit to randomly offer tutoring sessions without going through the Headmaster? Newt selfishly hopes that no, it wasn't and that this is an exception just for him.

He's probably delusional though.

"My pleasure Newt," Harry replies and looks up at a clock he had hung on the wall, "Oh dear, look at the time. You better go before you miss lunch."

Newt immediately stands up, a little embarrased by how long he had stayed, even if none of this was his fault.

"Thank you for seeing me sir," he says politely, manners having been ingrained in him since childhood. He even adds a small bow for good measure. Some teachers seems to appreciate it. Harry on the other hand simply looks amused by the overly formal gesture.

"How adorable," he laughs and Newt flushes pink and straightens up. Harry doesn't give Newt anytime to regret his actions before continuing, "Don't be so formal. None of my students are this polite to me. You'll make me feel old."

Newt nods in understanding, his heart rate a more steady beat in his rib cage. He picks up the charmed parchment and carefully put it in his book bag, in a pocket separated from the rest of his school supplies. He wanted to make sure to keep it wrinkle-free and safe until the time comes to use it.

"I'll be leaving now," he says once that was done.

"Have a good day," Harry replies cheerfully but doesn't get up to send him off.

Still in a daze, Newt pushes the door open and was about to close it behind him when a student - one he has never seen before - comes running up to him.

"Scamander" he asks when he is close enough to be head. Newt nods and the boy relaxes. "The Headmaster sent me to find you. Your friend Leta Lestrange told me where you were."

"Is something wrong?" Newt asks a little worriedly. The Headmaster don't usually ask to talk to students unless they have done something worthy of his time. Newt really can't remember ever doing something like that.

"I don't know," the student admits, shrugging slightly. "Apparently, you received some mail from your brother that didn't arrive in time for the morning mail distribution."

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2: A Letter from Theseus

**Recap from last chapter:** Newt finds the courage to talk to Professor Evans who ends up offering to tutor him. Just as he was about to go back to his dorm, a student comes up to him to inform him that he has received a letter from his brother Theseus.

A/N: I have edited the first chapter and changed some details so it would be a good idea to take a look before continuing with this one.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 A Letter from Theseus**

* * *

 _Newt,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well and that you and mother are living peaceful, uneventful existences back in Britain._

 _I know that you must be surprised to see a message from me after so many month of silence and I apologize for not upholding my promise of regularly keeping in contact. In my defense, the daily life of a soldier can get extremely hectic - especially with the initial training - and being on the front lines does not permit me much free time to write or call._

 _Nonetheless when a few month passed and I still haven't sent you all any signs that I was still alive, I knew I had to do everything in my power to rectify that mistake. I'm sure Mother is just beside herself for not knowing where I was._

 _Little brother, I want to apologize again for my oversight. And to reassure you and mother, I am well, both physically and mentally. Unfortunately, the hostilities seems to be getting worst and worst with every passing day so I doubt I'll be able to come home soon._

 _Despite what I have just said, I have to admit that I didn't write this letter simply to say hi. I also want to tell you about some things I have found during my time here; some things that concerns the Wizarding community greatly._

 _A dark wizard has been gaining power outside of England; his presence could be felt in a lot of the smaller European countries my unit and I have passed through. He calls himself Grindelwald and according to some people in the know, he wants to create a society that would dominate Muggles._

 _I know that some would call me paranoid but I am worried about this new development so I hope you would keep an ear and eye out for me. I don't ask you to put yourself in danger because that is the last thing I want you to do, but if this Grindelwald ever decide to expand to where you and mother are, I don't want you to be blindsided like so many will be. I have, of course, told the Minister about this but I doubt he will listen for he is rather cross with me at the moment._

 _That is all I want to say so I will stop the letter here. I wish you and mother peace and happiness and hope that we will be reunited soon._

 _Yours._

 _Theseus Scamander._

* * *

Newt had already opened the door before he realizes just how stupid it was for him to have come here. But it was too late to back out for Professor Evans has already seen him.

"Newt!" the other man says in confusion, his green eyes fixated on Newt, "What are you doing back here? Aren't you suppose to be at lunch?"

Judging by the clock behind the teacher, it was 12.30 and right in the middle of lunch hour. Newt would gone to the Great Hall for his meal if it hadn't been for Theseus' letter.

For a moment, Newt wonders if he should simply say he had made a mistake and leave. Besides, what good will telling Professor Evans about this do? And he had just met the professor and definitely wasn't feeling comfortable or familiar enough with him to tell him everything that was on his mind.

But on the other hand, Professor Evans did ask him to be more open so Newt decides to solider on.

He takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart before saying: "It's just I received a letter from my brother and since we talked about him a little and I-"

"Newt," the professor interrupts, quickly circumventing his desk to come over to stand in front of him. It is only now that Newt notices that they were about the same height, with Evans a little taller. "Newt. Calm down. I'm not admonishing you for coming here. I was just surprised. You did just leave my office 20 minutes ago."

Newt inhales and exhales deeply before taking out Theseus' letter, the paper - muggle made probably - on which it was written was a little wrinkly from having been stashed uncaringly in Newt's pocket.

"Here," he hands it over after attempting to straighten it out, "I don't know who else to talk to about this. Leta wouldn't do and none of the other teachers seem to be the sort to take this seriously. So I thought of you."

To Harry's credit, he doesn't even blink before taking the offered missive and begins to read it. Since the letter was pretty short and Theseus' writing style pretty straightforward, Harry finishes it in a matter of minutes. And when he was done, he looks back up at Newt, none of the urgency Newt has felt present on his face.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention Newt," he says. "Although, I have to admit that I am already well aware that something like this is happening."

"You are?"

Newt had not expected that.

"I traveled a lot before I became your teacher," Harry explains, laughing a little and goes back to his chair, leaving Newt to take a few more steps in to the room and close the door behind him. "I've been to other countries. I've seen what Grindelwald has done over the years."

"So you know who Grindelwald is?" Newt pries, the foreign name unfortunately coming out a little bit mangled by his unpracticed tongue.

Harry nods solemnly.

"Only too well," he admits, "Sit down Newt and let me tell you about him."

Newt does so with promptness, ass dropping down in to a nearby chair with an almost audible thump and waits impatiently for Harry to start.

Harry gives him an amused glance before beginning his narrative.

"Gellert Grindelwald was born around 1883 and attended Durmstrang Institute of Magic before he was expelled for conducting sick experiments on his fellow students. When he was young, he formed a friendship with none other then Albus Dumbledore."

"The transfiguration teacher!?" Newt gasps. He thinks of Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes and ready-to-help attitude and is unable to relate him to the upcoming dark lord that was Grindelwald. Could someone who seemingly has so much good in him actually be friends with an up and coming psychopath?

"Young Dumbledore was idealistic and easily moved by power. He saw in Grindelwald a kindred soul and was convinced to join his cause," Harry continues, unperturbed by the interruption.

"To create a society that would dominate muggles?"

Harry nods.

"Grindelwald wants to expose magic to muggles and, with his fellow witches and wizards, create a dictatorship with him on top and the muggles on the bottom. It was the revolution that he and Dumbledore had planned."

A new society based on the subservience of muggles; with Dumbledore and Grindelwald their masters. Just the thought of it is enough to make Newt a little sick in the stomach.

"To think I saw him as a father figure," Newt says, aghast. "How could they let someone like that in to Hogwarts?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle at his indignation.

"I assure you, Dumbledore suffered much for his momentary lapse in judgement. He lost his sister because of Grindelwald and to this day, he is still ravaged by guilt because of it. It is Ariana's death that broke the once perfect partnership and afterwards Dumbledore came back to Hogwarts and became the Transfiguration teacher."

Newt looks down at the table in front of him, his mind a whirlwind of information.

"I can't believe this," he mumbles, "Does this mean Grindelwald stayed away from Britain because of Dumbledore?"

"I think so," Harry bites his lip in thought, "I think Grindelwald saw Dumbledore as an equal or in some cases, someone more powerful then him. I think Grindelwald wants to make sure he has enough support before confronting Dumbledore once more."

"And why did Dumbledore join him in the first place?"

"Because Grindelwald had managed to paint a future so enticing that Dumbledore cannot say no despite knowing, deep down, how twisted the man was."

From the drawer of his desk, Harry extracts a quill and parchment on which he draws a strange symbol.

"Know this?" he asks.

Newt stares at it for a while before shaking his head. A circle with a triangle and a vertical line. Nothing comes to mind.

"This is the symbol of the Deathly Hallows," Harry explains, "Have you heard of the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

That was at least familiar.

"The children's fairy tale? My mom read it to me when I was young."

"Not a simple story," Harry reveals and takes the parchment back. He touches it on one corner and it burns to a crisp in a matter of seconds. "The wand, the stone and the cloak all exists. And whoever possesses all three becomes the Master of Death."

"Master of Death," Newt repeats, "Who can control Death...So that means, he can't die? Is the Master Immortal?"

"Immortal," Harry agrees, a strange smile on his lips. "Forever tethered to this world, unable to move on."

That does not sound too good, thinks Newt and decides to say so as well.

"No," Harry agrees admiringly, his assessing gaze causing Newt to flush a little. "Not many can see it as you do. But you are right; immortality is a curse if you have to do it alone."

Why does Harry sound as if he knows it from first hand experience?

"But what does this have to do with Grindelwald?" Newt asks, deciding to put other matters to the back of his mind for the moment.

"Grindelwald will be or is already seeking out the Hallows," Harry explains, "He won't succeed for many reasons but he will gain a great number of followers by promising them the power of the Hallows all united."

"But the power can't be shared," Newt summises, things clicking in to place, "There can't be multiple masters of death or else it wouldn't make any sense."

"No," Harry agrees, "The master can decide to share their immortality with their chosen partner but beyond that, the power that comes with the unification of the three Hallows will remain with one person only."

"Then Grindelwald's promises are nothing but pretty words."

Harry smiles grimly.

"But that won't stop his progress. Unless someone defeats him, he'll never go away."

That is something Newt doesn't even want to think about.

It was then that a thought that had been niggling in the back of his mind since the beginning of the story finally materializes enough for Newt to ask: "How do you know all this?" Surely information this valuable can't be that easy to obtain.

Harry doesn't answer right away nor does he look taken aback by Newt's sudden aggressiveness. Instead, he stares at Newt like a scientist would stare at a brand new problem; excited and curious at the same time.

"Telling you the answer straight out would be boring Newt," Harry laughs, amused and fond, "And I do hate anything boring. Why don't you tell me what you think the answer is?" he asks instead.

Newt bites his lips and thinks for a few seconds but is unable to come up with a satisfactory solution to the problem he himself has unearthed.

"Think about it Newt," Harry says, regaining his seat. Newt hadn't even noticed that Harry had never sat down during the entire time he was talking. He was probably used to lecturing standing up being a teacher and all.

"I will," Newt promises, the attraction of solving the mystery undeniable.

Harry passes a hand through his hair, accidentally lifting the fringe cover his right eye. For a second, Newt thought he saw something under there before it was covered again.

"Do feel free to come tell me any conclusions you may have reached," Harry tells him, "I promise you that I will tell you the truth if you guesses it first. Don't worry Newt, you're bright. You'll get it. In the mean time, do keep all this a secret. It would be bad if the wrong people catches wind of this."

He says the last part as a warning, his tone serious and grim.

Newt nods hurriedly, having never even entertained the idea of telling someone else about everything he had learnt in the past 15 minutes or so.

"I will be careful," he agrees and stands up, "Thank you for listening to my problem and telling me all this."

"Oh?" Harry looks up at him. Was that disappointment in his tone or was Newt simply projecting his own feelings. "Going already?"

"I have to send a letter to mother," Newt explains, "I want to make sure she received Theseus' message and that she isn't currently worrying herself to death."

"That's a good idea," Harry smiles at him, "Do go on then Mr. Scamander. I'll see you soon."

With one last nod to Harry, Newt leaves the room, heading towards the Grand Staircase, his mind already forming the sentences he would be penning down on parchment to his mother.

* * *

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3: Possibility of Time Travel

**Recap from last chapter:** Professor Evans reveals some truth about Grindelwald, leaving Newt asking himself how the man knows so much.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 The Possibility of Time Travel**

* * *

 _"_ _You're bright. You'll get it."_

7 simple little words and yet, Newt can't get them out of his mind. They reverberated in his brain all through lunch and dinner and by the time he was getting ready for bed, he still hasn't figured out what Professor Evans had meant.

Figure out what?

"Alright Scamander," he says to himself, sitting cross-legged on his bed, his curtains spelled shut around him. He had even put up a privacy charm for good measure although the chances of someone listening in or spying on him were practically nonexistent. "Concentrate. Lay out the facts and try to find a common link between them."

Fact A: Professor Evans has a secret he expects Newt to discover.

Fact B: Professor Evans knows a lot of stuff that a simple school teacher like him wasn't supposed to know.

Fact C: Professor Evans traveled a lot before Hogwarts.

Fact D: Professor Evans is an extremely strong wizard with unparalleled wandless ability.

Newt looks down at the list he had just made and frowns in concentration.

From what he can see, fact C can potentially explain fact B. Professor Evans had said his travels let him see first hand what Grindelwald was doing in Europe. Could it be that during his explorations, he had found some kind of information repository? That seems like the most logical solution to the riddle and yet Newt isn't satisfied with it. For some reason, that explanation seems so…mundane and Professor Evans is anything but mundane.

So if it isn't something he discovered during his trips, then it is something that he already knows? How was that possible?

Unless…

Newt's eyes widen a little at the possibility.

There were only two conceivable ways, as far as Newt knows, that can allow a person to gain knowledge of things he or she wasn't supposed to have in the first place.

1\. Seer. Wizards and Witches with the Sight were rare but not impossibly rare. Powerful Seers can predict the future and see a world no one else can see and gain priceless knowledge through their visions.

And Number 2…

No.

Newt shakes his head, hesitating. Could it be possible? It seems so far fetched. And yet…it would explain everything.

Newt takes a deep breath and writes down number 2.

Number two is…time travel.

Theoretically possible but pragmatically improbable.

In the past, Ministry researchers have tinkled with time manipulation charms - the most famous of which is the Hour Reversal Charm in 1907 - but has yet managed to come up with a solution that will allow a person to go back in time for more then a few hours. To have the kind of effect Newt was seeing here, Harry would have had to travel back years, if not decades. That kind of power is almost unthinkable. Professor Evans may be gifted magically but this was beyond simple magic; this is almost rewriting the laws of the universe.

 _Maybe I should ask Leta what she thinks about this? Not telling the whole story of course, but just asking her about the possibilities of time travel._

That does seem like a good idea.

With his mind made up, Newt extinguishes his light and burrows himself under his warm covers, ready for sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Newt wakes up refreshed and determined, ready to find Leta for a little chat but is distracted on his way to the Great Hall by the fact that students - some from his own house and others from different houses - were staring at him for no reason.

 _What in Merlin's name is going on here?_

Extremely uncomfortable in the limelight, Newt quickens his steps, tightens his uniform robe around himself in an unconscious act of self-comfort, and hopes that this staring isn't due to him having something stuck on his face.

Luckily for Newt's mental state, no one actually approaches him. Instead, they just stared, conversing quietly with each other while making it abundantly clear that he was the topic of conversation.

"Dear Merlin," says one of Newt's regular potion partners - Carol if he remembers correctly - as she walks up to where he was waiting for the doors of the Great Hall to open for breakfast. "What did you do to them?"

"I don't know," Newt mumbles awkwardly, his gaze downcast, trying to make himself as small as possible, "I really don't know."

"From what I heard, it's because Newt has somehow attracted the attention of Professor Evans," says a familiar voice behind Newt, making the poor boy startle. It was Leta of course, dressed prim and proper with her hair done up in an elegant bun and her face made up like a European princess.

"What?" Newt repeats in confusion and Leta looks at him in exasperation.

"Did he or did he not ask for your name yesterday?"

Newt gapes at her. Was that really the reason?

"He did but he's a teacher. He's supposed to ask for student's names!"

Leta shakes her head in disappointment at his answer.

"No Newt," she says, condescending, "Professor Evans does not ask for a student's name out of the blue. If you speak to him first or ask him a question, he will ask you your name, but otherwise, he won't bother. Surely you have noticed that."

Newt flushes and does not say he really hadn't noticed that.

"They just don't understand why someone as unremarkable as you could attract Professor Evans' attention," Leta explains. "But don't worry, they'll get bored eventually. They always do."

"That's not really reassuring," Newt mumbles.

"Nothing you can do," Leta yawns in that way snobby girls did to show that they were no longer interested in pursuing the current topic of conversation, "Unless you have some way to go back in time and change history, you are stuck being stared at for the time being."

At the mention of time travel, Newt's mind went back to his conversation with Evans and the hypothesis he had laid out yesterday night before sleep. In the chaos that was his walk to the Great Hall, he had nearly forgotten his plan to talk to Leta. Now was the best time to do it.

"Do you think time travel is possible?" he asks, trying to keep an even tone. Having been born in a pureblood magical family, Leta probably has more insight about this then him.

Leta throws him a look, but doesn't reply.

Carol, who for some reason hasn't left yet, answers for her.

"That is not possible," she shakes her head, "Time travel on this level would require a gigantic power source and a magical focus that can withstand the surge of magic."

"Like the Elder Wand?" Where had that come from? Perhaps he was still influenced by what he had learned yesterday.

Leta lets out a snort.

"Elder Wand?" she repeats incredulously, "From the Tale of the Three Brothers? Newt, that is a story; a children's story. Don't tell me you actually believe in it?"

"But if the Elder Wand did exist," Carol replies more kindly, "And I'm saying a big IF. And if the user is strong enough; time travel is technically possible."

"But pragmatically improbable," Newt adds and Carol nods.

"For Merlin's sake," Leta sounded annoyed as she turns on her heels to leave.

"You're not staying?" Newt asks, a little taken aback by her actions.

"With you children?" she sneers, "Just staying here is lowering my intelligence."

"Wow," Carol says once Leta is out of earshot, "Nice girl."

"She has her days," Newt defends half-halfheartedly.

* * *

After his morning classes, Newt finds himself wondering aimlessly around school, wasting time until he had to go to his Herbology class. As he crosses the Courtyard, he accidentally runs in to Professor Evans, the latter talking animatedly to two starry eyed first year girls.

"Newt," Professor Evans greets him happily when Newt gets in to his line of sight, "Wonderful. Just the person I want to find."

The two girls sends Newt a look more suited for a child murderer or a puppy kicker and Newt actually falters in his steps.

Who knew little girls could be so scary when you took away their idol?

"Sure," Newt replies heistantly and watches Professor Evans say goodbye to the girls and come join him.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asks, once Harry is close enough that Newt could actually brush against him accidentally. He doesn't do so because that would be weird.

"I wanted to ask you about your progress," Harry says, beaming at him, "Any ideas on how I got to know what I know?"

"Uhhh..." Newt begins before decidning to throw caution to the wind. What's the worst that can happen? "Time Travel."

He fully expects Harry to burst out in to peels of laughter at the ridiculously of the idea. Shockingly however, Harry doesn't laugh. He actually nods his head in approval.

Newt chokes on his breath.

"Wait," he says, "Really? Time Travel?"

"Well," Harry admits, "It's a lot more complicated then that but you got the gist of it."

As they were talking, Harry had guided them to a more secluded area of the courtyard and erected a privacy shield around them. Although Newt had not seen him do it, he could feel the effect as clear as day.

"How many years?" Newt asks, unable to believe he was actually asking a time travel just how far had he travelled.

"What do you think?"

Newt bites his lips in thought.

"Since you know so much about Grindelwald, you must have came from a time his reign was already over because I doubt you would be able to find out all that if the madman was still in power. So if Grindelwald is as powerful as you seem to imply he is, then it can't be just a few years in the future. It must be more."

He stops for a second.

"10 years?"

Harry shakes his head.

"Higher," he says and Newt nods in understanding.

"50," Harry shakes his head again.

"100!?" Newt nearly chokes out and Harry chuckles.

"Almost. I come from 2021."

"Oh...wow."

Harry grins at him, taking pleasure in his astonishment.

"So that means you are not Harold Evans," Newt guesses. A name change would probably be the basic for any time traveler.

"Harry Potter," Harry says and Newt did a double take.

"Potter? As in Henry Potter?" he asks, thinking of the head of one of the most powerful Pure-blood families in Britain.

"My Great-great grandfather," Harry explains.

"And...and..." Newt's mind came back to another point of contention in yesterday's conversation, "When you said I would become famous, you really meant it."

"Yep," Harry replies cheerily, "Newt Scamander, author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them; the man who singlehandedly revolutionized the Ministry's legislature on magical creatures and brought a new era of enlightenment and tolerance."

"Oh wow," Newt says weakly, unable to believe what was actually in store for him, "Wow."

"Wow indeed," Harry agrees, bumping Newt's shoulder with his own in a friendly manner, "But you can do better, I know you can so that's why I am here to help you."

"But you can't have come back for me," Newt isn't nearly as arrogant enough to actually believe that.

Harry shakes his head.

"No, I came back because there were things in the future that I wanted to change and when I miraculously got the power to do so, I decided to take the plunge."

"Aren't you afraid to mess up the timeline?" Newt insists, thinking of the butterfly effect.

Harry smiles grimly at him.

"If you have seen the future I'm from, you wouldn't have hesitated either."

The conviction in his voice was so overwhelming that Newt remains speechless for a moment.

 _Hah,_ he thinks to himself, _Who knew that the possibility of time travel was actually 100%..._

* * *

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4: Heroics

A/N: In canon, Newt is thrown out of Hogwarts in 1913, at the age of 16. For this story, I will move his expulsion to a later date and might even change the reason.

I am taking a lot of liberties with Leta's character as we don't know much about her. We know she's a "taker" according to Queenie, so I assumed she was a selfish friend and their relationship definitely hasn't left a good impression on Newt.

 **Recap from last chapter** : Harry tells Newt about being a time traveler after Newt tells him about his hypothesis.

* * *

 **Chapter 4 Heroics**

* * *

Newt tried - he really did - but after Harry's words of that afternoon, Newt can't help but wonder just what kind of future Harry came from for the man to be willing to risk messing up the timeline in order to change the past. He had tried to ask the man but for once, Harry had remained tight lipped, assuring Newt that he would talk when the time was right. Newt has no idea when that would be.

Thus, with so many thoughts and worries occupying his mind, Newt has slept fretfully and ends up waking up the next morning feeling tired and cranky. Unfortunately for Newt's sanity, he had forgotten in the general insanity of things that it was the morning of a Hogsmeade visit and if there is one thing that can rile students up, it is getting to go to Hogsmeade.

"Argg…" Newt grumbles, pushing himself out of bed. He doesn't even notice the way his dormmates froze up as he moved, their conversation stopping mid-sentence. Newt was too focused on walking without tripping over nothing.

"Good morning Scamander," says one of them after a small bout of awkward silence. Newt thinks his name is Goldstein but can't be sure. He had never been too close to his dormmates despite having shared the same sleeping space for 6 years.

"Good morning," Newt replies hesitantly, attempting a smile because that was the polite thing to do.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade?" Goldstein asks, encouraged by the lack of a dismissal.

Newt thinks about that for a moment before shrugging. He should probably go, he figures. The fresh air and the exercise will help him clear his mind. Besides, he doesn't have anything else to do, his homework having already been completed in advance.

"Sure," he sighs, passing a hand through his hair. He really needs to comb it before leaving. "I have nothing to do anyways."

A boy next to Goldstein snorts at that but quickly shuts up when Goldstein steps on his foot.

Newt pretends not to see.

"Why don't you come with us?" Goldstein suggests eagerly, smiling at him in a friendly manner. Newt however isn't all that pacified by his open expression. He can't help narrowing his eyes suspiciously at him for he isn't nearly sleepy enough to let go of the fact that a boy who, before today, has never spoken to him beyond hello or you're late, was suddenly inviting him to hang out.

This seems like the perfect setup for a prank.

"I'm fine," Newt finally replies, turning attention to his chest and grabbing from it a coat and a comb, "Thank you."

Goldstein's looks disappointed by his answer but his companion steps forward, taking charge.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," says Goldstein's companion, the one who had snorted before, "Don't be so paranoid Scamander. We are just going to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer and then wonder aimlessly around the village until it is time to go back to school. This isn't some kind of elaborate plan to hurt you. Have some faith in your fellow schoolmates, will you?"

He sounds a little bit hurt by Newt's weariness and Newt can't help the small bubble of guilt building up within him.

"Oh," he says, a little chastised by his dormmate's words, "Yes, I'm sorry. You're right."

He takes a deep breath and decides to take a leap of faith. Besides, what's the worst that can happen?

"I'll be glad to tag along."

* * *

The group to set out for Hogsmeade is gathered in front of the school's main entrance; a gaggle of students, some chattering, some eating, all obviously excited for the trip ahead. Along with Goldstein and his friend, Newt makes his way to the end of the line, waiting for the signal to leave.

At 10, Professor Viridian, current Head of Slytherin House and chaperone for this week's excursion, stands out to get everyone's attention.

"Gather around children, we'll be going as soon as my collegue gets here."

"Who's coming sir?" asks a girl near Viridian.

"Professor Evans has generously offered his services as chaperone," Viridian answers, causing a wave of approval to rise up among the gathered crowd. Newt is yet again impressed by how much support Professor Evans has managed to gather in his short few month at the school. This level of charm at work is truly a sight to behold.

"Do you think we'll get the chance to see Professor Evans during the visit?" Newt hears a female voice ask hopefully before another female voice adds: "And maybe even buy him a drink."

"I doubt it," a male voice replies, tone condescending, "He doesn't seem like the sort to sit with students outside of a school setting. And besides, even if he did hang out with students, why would he be interested in you?"

Judging by the oww that soon follows his words, one of the girls must have hit him hard. But luckily for the boy, Professor Evans takes that moment to appear, dressed casually in a warm sweater and black form fitting pants, saving him from further punishment.

"Sorry everyone," he greets the assembled crowd jovially, "My alarm didn't go off correctly."

"Rough night professor?" a brave 6th year tries to joke and Professor Evans simply laughs, ignoring the implications.

"Kind of," he admits sheepishly, running a hand through his hand, lifting his fringe enough for Newt to see the edge of the scar he had noticed before but had never asked the significance of, "Had a nightmare and ended up falling off my bed. Definitely a rough night."

Although most people takes his words as a joke - and even obligingly laughing a little - Newt can't help but notice the dark bags under the older man's eyes and frowns at him in concern. For your average human, nightmares probably meant dreaming about falling or being pursued by an imaginary assailant. However for Harry, who had come from a future so terrible he was willing to risk it all in order to change the past, those nightmares would probably make anyone shiver in fear.

Almost as if conscious of Newt's attention, Harry catches his eye over the heads of the other students and gives him a reassuring smile before turning away. Embarrassingly, Newt feels his heart pound faster and his face flush at the intimacy encased in that look. Logically, he knows that Professor Evans probably hadn't meant anything by it but Newt's body still believes otherwise.

 _Stupid teenage hormones,_ Newt thinks in annoyance, resolutely not considering that his reactions could be something else entirely. _Okay, maybe Leta's right and this is a crush. But that's it; just a crush. It's not my fault Professor Evans is just so perfect; fair and understanding, always ready to give you a helping hand no matter the problem, like to a prince from those muggle faerie tales father used to read me._

Newt could still remember how gentle he had been with that crying 11 years old, terrified when blood had unexpectedly started to leak out of her underwear. Most male teacher would have balked at the first sight of womanly problems but Harold Evans had gently explained to her that everything was normal and he would bring her to the infirmary for the school nurse to help her clean up. If there had been one moment that had started this whole crush affair, it would have been that one.

"Alright, alright," Professor Viridian calls out, interrupting Newt's musings, "Since Harold is here, let's get going. As usual, everyone form a line so we can verify your permission slip."

And after making sure that everyone present had a permission slip - and sending the two students who had forged their slip to detention - the group set off for Hogsmeade.

With lack of anything interesting to do on the way there, Newt finds himself looking around in the crowd of people for Leta's familiar black hair. He finds it easily - Leta always had a way of standing out no matter where she went - and is taken aback when he realizes that Miss Popular is alone.

 _Where are her friends?_ Newt wonders. Leta hates being along, mainly for the fact that no one would be on hand to supply her with an endless stream of compliments.

Newt shrugs a little after a while. Leta is a big girl. If she is alone, it probably means that she wanted things to be that way. It isn't his place to worry too much about her.

* * *

The group of students breaks apart once they've reached the village, with some students heading towards the joke shop, others towards the Quill shop and Professor Evans, pulled alone by Professor Viridian, to the Post Office for some reason.

"Come on," Goldstein urges them, rubbing his hands in anticipation, "Anderson, Scamander. Let's get going before all the good seats are taken."

"It's not that bad," his friend - Anderson - says, rolling his eyes but following along. "Not everyone is obsessed with butterbear as you.

Goldstein ignores him, remaining in a wonderful mood and even humming to himself until they were seated at a table in the Three Broomsticks, waiting for service.

"Three butterbeers please!" Goldstein calls out to a harried-looking barmaid, when he notices her looking his way. "Thanks."

"Right away dear," the woman - who is probably in her late fifties, way too old to be working the job she was doing - replies before hurrying away, her steps fast and practiced. Newt observes the rest of the tavern with slight interest, recognizing more then a few familiar faces. Leta is, for him, rather noticeable in her absence and Newt can't resist wondering where she had disappeared to. Newt really hopes it isn't something that would get her in to trouble.

When Newt finally returns his attention to his companions, he finds Goldstein and Anderson in the middle of a debate regarding butterbear.

"The Three Broomsticks have the best butterbeer," Goldstein was saying, eyes bright with contentment, "It's better then anywhere else."

"That's because you haven't gone to Cafe Royal in Paris," Anderson retorts, "Nothing can compare to that place."

"As if," Goldstein scoffs, "The french don't have anything we don't have and besides, that's not butterbeer. I think my brother said it was called _Biere au Beurre_ or something equally weird."

"That's just the french translation for butterbeer you illiterate," Anderson retorts and Newt was unable to stop himself from snorting.

"Well...well, how should I know?" Goldstein snaps, "I'm not French."

"Goldstein is a little bit sensitive when it comes to butterbear," Anderson explains to Newt, his voice filled with amusement, "But to be fair, the Three Broomsticks is the best place in Hogsmeade to get butterbeer."

"Thank you," Goldstein says and Anderson continues smoothly, "But that's mainly because it is the only reputable bar in town, the other one being the Hog's Head and you know how that is."

Newt does know how that is. Theseus had told him enough horror stories about the Hog's Head to last him a life time.

"I heard about that place," Goldstein admits, cocking his head in recollection, "Mom told me to stay as away from there as possible. Apparently, they attract a less then desirable clientele. Many people there hide their faces for fear of being recognized."

He pauses for dramatic effect before adding: "Rumor has it a lot of seedy deals goes down over there as well."

"Seedy deals?" Newt repeats. He hasn't heard about that. Theseus mostly talked about backroom murders, much to their mother's exasperation. A young Theseus had been quite the prankster and enjoyed scaring his kid brother whenever he had the opportunity.

"What do you mean?" asks Newt.

Goldstein shrugs.

"Smuggling operations mostly," he explains, "magical creatures and sometimes even humans."

"That's just conjunctures," Anderson laughs, "to scare the kiddies away. You know, don't go there or you're get taken by some very bad people."

"Which means," Goldstein smirks in a way that makes Newt very uncomfortable, "we should go take a look."

"Hell no," Anderson spits out, actually pushing himself away from the table to get away from Goldstein. Newt resists the urge to do the same. "You can't pay me enough to go near that place. Why don't we go shopping afterwards as we had planned? I hear Honeydukes have some new items for sale."

"That's a great idea," Newt agrees readily. He likes chocolate as much as he likes staying in piece and not dying for the sake of morbid curiosity. "We can go to Zunko's as well. My brother told me that shop is really something."

Goldstein's expression darkens as he glares at them.

"You two are a pair of wusses," he says huffily, "We're 17 already. We're full grown wizards. Why are you two still affected by tales told to get children to behave."

The table falls in to an unconfortable silence at that, only to be broken when the barmaid returns with their drinks.

Despite butterbeer not being his favorite drink, Newt still jumps on it in a desperate attempt to give himself something to do other then watching Goldstein frown at the table.

Maybe tagging along with these two wasn't such a good idea…

* * *

Newt repeats that thought 30 minutes later when a trip to Honeydukes has somehow turned in to a visit to the place he had sworn he would never go near…

…The Hog's Head.

"Come on you two," Goldstein needles - in a much better mood now that he had gotten his way - pushing them through the door before himself to make sure that they don't run away at the first opportunity, "It's just a pub."

It was a very dirty pub, with barely see-through windows, grime-covered tables and dirt-laddered walls.

"You are so paying for this later," hisses Anderson as he nearly stumbles under Goldstein's push. He grabs onto the nearest table for support, causing a wizard sitting at that table to glare at him with his one good eye.

Goldstein remains unperturbed as he guides their trio to an empty spot in a corner, next to 2 very dangerous looking people with heavy black cloaks concealing their identity.

"Wait till my brother hear about this," Goldstein says happily, as if potentially putting their life at risk was something to brag about. If Newt's mother finds out about this, she would have sent Newt a Howler without hesitation. And as for his father...Newt doesn't even want to think how dissapointed the man would have been. "He'll be so jealous I got to come here before he did."

While Goldstein doesn't even hesitate before trying to attract the waiter/owner/bartender's attention, Newt tries to make himself as small as possible, hoping not to attract any attention from the other patrons. No longer in the mood for conversation, he lets Goldstein and Anderson converse, wishing he had had enough of a backbone to leave when he had the chance.

After a little while of cowering in his corner, Newt finds himself getting bored and starts to look around carefully, taking in the sight. The first thing he notices were the the two men next to them. Strangely enough, they were still sitting there silently, like when Newt and companions had came in.

Three bottles of butterbeer as well as a plate of fries appears in front of Newt just in time for a third cloak covered man to join the two others at their booth. As Goldstein and Anderson began to dig in, Newt eavesdrops shamelessly on the men, more then a little curious as to what they were doing. What he finds out made his body freeze.

If there was one thing no one knows about Newt was that he speaks more then just English. In preparation for his future, Newt had learned French and Spanish on his own. Sure he was far from the level of being able to sound like a native, but he understood enough to get what a conversation was about.

The three man next to him were speaking in Spanish, their accents suggesting that they were natives from a Spanish speaking country. But that isn't the most important point; the most important point is that they were clearly talking about an ongoing smuggling operation; an operation involving smuggling exotic kneazles to sell for potion ingredients.

 _No way in hell._

Newt might be a coward at times, but when there is a defenseless magical creature in danger, he is ready to do whatever he can to help them, even at the expense of his own life.

Newt knows at that moment what he has to do. He is going to have to follow the shady group to where they had stashed their wares and find a way to free the kneazles.

A dangerous plan? Sure.

A foolish plan? Definitely.

Does Newt care? No. Besides if Gryffindors were to be trusted, sheer hardheadedness and determination can overcome any obstacles.

* * *

The trio leaves after 10 minutes so Newt makes his excuses to his two companions and leaves after them, making sure to cast a sound-dampening charm on his shoes and a detect-me-not spell on himself.

In this manner, Newt follows the trio out of Hog's Head, along the main road for a while and then down a rat infested alley way.

It takes about 5 minutes before finally, they stop in front of a door marked with the words Private in white letters.

"The boss will be here later. He's meeting with a new client right now," one of them says and opens the door, "Let's get everything ready before he gets here."

Newt stays close to the last gentleman and manages to slip inside without being detected.

The inside of the building reminds Newt of a huge warehouse; bare walls and a windowless design, every available floor space stacked with boxes upon boxes of magical creatures, some foreign, some local, some Newt has never seen before.

The kneazles were kept in a pile near the corner, their whimpering mewls steeling Newt's resolve to free them despite the tremendous odds stacked against him.

"We'll move the merchandise at 3," the one who had opened the door said. Newt glances down at his watch and realizes that it was already 2. He had an hour to come up with a plan or all his efforts up to now would have been for naught.

Unfortunately, before he could do anything else, Newt suddenly feels a huge hand descend upon him before everything goes dark.

Okay, so maybe Gryffindorish heroics don't always pay off...

* * *

 **"** Hey Maria, isn't that Scamander?"

While Newt had been too busy following the smugglers, two girls standing outside Hogs' Head notices his actions and stops mid conversation to look.

"Yeah, what is he doing? Is he following those men?"

"They look kind of shady," the first girl comments a little worriedly, "I think we should tell a teacher."

"Oh! I think I see Professor Evans over there," Maria says, eyes wide, "Come on, he's turning the corner. We'll lose him if we don't hurry."

Luckily for them, Professor Evans stopped to chat with a group of sixth years, allowing them to catch up.

"Professor," Maria calls out, huffing and puffing a little, "We saw Scamander following some really shady men."

Sometimes, it was just better to be directly especially when time is of the essense.

"What?" Professor Evan repeats, eyes narrowed, "Where did he go?"

The girls pointed towards the way Newt had left and Professor Evans nods his thanks.

"I'll go find out what is happening," he promises them, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

Without another word, he turns on his heels and heads towards the bar.

"Well, that was rude," one of the six sixth years grumbles, unused to being dismissed that way.

Maria gives him a look and hopes that everything turns out alright.

* * *

 **TBC**

Next Chapter: Rescue.


	5. Chapter 5: Rescue

**Recap from last chapter:** Newt runs off to play hero and is captured. Harry is alerted by a student who accidentally saw Newt run off and comes to the rescue.

 **Chapter 5 Rescue**

* * *

There were a great number of things that Newt had once thought unbearable - such as almond cakes and birthday parties organized by his mother where she invited a group of kids Newt had never met before and then served almond cake - but turned out to be quite pleasant - the parties were still a pain in the ass but Newt had grown to like the cakes. Unfortunately, being hit in the back by a stunner and subsequently tied up like cattle was not one of those things.

Newt regains consciousness painfully, his arms behind his back and his legs tied to a chair. A man with the musculature of a small bear stands in front of him, a metal bat in his hands but no wands in sight. Newt wonders if that was a curse or a blessing in disguise.

"Ahh," says the man, "You're awake. Took you long enough."

Newt doesn't reply, his mouth dry and bitter tasting.

"Now you can talk, you better tell me who you are and what you are doing here."

Newt opens his mouth in an attempt to speak but no sound comes out.

"Well," the man says impatiently, tapping the bat against his palm in a threatening manner, "Are you going to talk or am I going to have to make you talk?"

That definitely doesn't sound good. Newt had read enough gangster novels - his father is an avid collector - to know what the aftermath would be if he doesn't start confessing soon.

"I was at the Hog's Head with some friends," Newt replies quickly, finally gaining enough composure to form words, "I accidentely heard you talking about selling kneazles for potion ingredients so I followed you."

For a moment, the man simply stares at him before he lets out one of the loudest laughs Newt has ever heard.

"Do you mean," he starts before laughing some more. "Oh Merlin. This is hilarious. Are you telling me that you, a scrawny teenager, accidentally heard us talking about a smuggling operation and your first instinct is to follow us? What? Did you really think you could pull this off without getting caught? Why didn't you go fetch a teacher or something? Are you daft?"

"Cole," another man interrupts coldly as he approaches, his footsteps barely audible. Newt had the impression that this was the man who had stunned him, The man gives Newt an extremely unimpressed look before adding, "Don't give the enemy ideas."

"I doubt he's the enemy," Cole replies, shrugging his shoulders, "John, he's just an idiotic kid who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Probably a Hogwarts student; a Gryffindor most likely, judging by his act first think later attitude."

"I'm a Hufflepuff," Newt says, not really knowing why he had said it but felt the need to say it anyways.

"Really?" Cole looks surprised, "How odd. I thought only Gryffindors were in to reckless acts of heroism."

"I was thinking like a Gryffindor when I followed you," Newt explains, unable to believe he is having a somewhat civil conversation with his captor. "I'm usually not one for putting myself in danger without a plan."

"Good, good," Cole nods in approval, "Young people need to learn from their mistakes."

"What are you talking about?" John snaps, slapping Cole on the back of his head in a decidedly unfriendly way. Cole winces but does not retaliate, clearly showing who is in command here. "We can't let the kid leave here alive. It'll compromise our future operations."

 _We can't let the kid leave here alive._

9 little words and it is enough to make Newt suddenly too aware of his current predicament. He is in enemy territory, with no one aware of his location or even aware he is in any danger. He is, for a lack of a better term, dead meat.

Suddenly, his heart starts racing, a sense of impending doom overtaking his senses. He feels dizzy and numb, breath coming more and more labored. Newt wonders if this is how it feels to have a panic attack.

 _How could I have been so stupid? Why did I follow these guys without alerting someone or at least telling them where I was going? Now I am going to die. Mom is going to be devastated... and Theseus...oh Merlin..._

"You know," interrupts a third voice, one that Newt, in the middle of his terror, barely hears, "normally I would agree with you - youngsters these days are all brawn and no brains and really should be taught a lesson - but since you guys are criminals and all, that would feel very inappropriate."

The unexpectedness of those words were enough to pull Newt from whatever state he was in and look up to find…Harold Evans standing in the middle of the warehouse, two unconscious - or dead? - goons lying a few feet behind him and looking like an angel of darkness here to wreck havoc upon humanity.

It is an unbelievably sensual sight. Unfortunately, Newt is in no condition to enjoy it.

"Who are you?" Cole shouts, coming to stand threatening in front of Harry.

"Me?" Harry smiles coldly, a stark contrast with the ever-friendly teacher Newt is used to seeing on a regular basis. This Harry, he thinks, looks like someone who could tear your spine out and laugh while doing it. This Harry, he also thinks, looks like a war General who wouldn't hesitate a second before ordering the death of thousands of people he considers enemies.

This Harry is ruthless and powerful.

"I'm a friend of the young man you have tied up over there."

Everyone turns to look at Newt.

"He's my teacher," Newt explains weakly, "No idea how he found me."

"It wasn't an easy task," Harry admits, "Took me 10 minutes to track down your magical signature. The wards around this place are truly something."

"You dismantled our wards?" Cole looks shocked and Newt wonders if the wards were put up by someone the man really looks up to. "But that was thought up by Gr-"

"Shut up Cole," Cole's superior hisses, kicking him in the shin. He then turns to Harry, looking as if this was just another day at work. "Since I'm in a good mood, I'll make you a deal. You can take this young man with you and we'll all pretend nothing happened."

Harry laughs.

"Sorry, as nice as that sounds, I can't let you go." He takes two steps forward and suddenly the air is saturated with Harry's brand of magic. "You see, I hate bullies; bad experiences and all."

He gives them a once over before continuing.

"You guys - kidnapping defenseless creatures from their homes and selling them for your own gain - are the worst kind of bullies, ones with no redeeming quality."

"I'm so sorry you have a problem with our business," the other man sneers, "But that doesn't mean we will stop."

He suddenly grins evilly and Newt's intuition starts to scream at him that something is going to happen.

"Attack!" the man suddenly commands and out of no where, 20 or so armed wizards jumps out of their hiding place, wand in hand and curses ready to be fired. Shockingly however, before they could do anything, Harry's right hand shots out like a lance and the world around them comes to standstill.

Newt blinks.

Time…has stopped.

Harry has somehow stopped time for everyone but themselves.

How is this possible? How can a mere wizard - no matter how strong - displays a power that takes him a step in to the realm of the Gods?

Unless…he's no longer a mere wizard…

"You," Newt says in a trembling voice, "You have the three Hallows, don't you?" It was more of a declaration then a question for Newt already has all the proof he needs. With this tidbit of information, a few questions he had suddenly makes a lot more sense.

What exists no matter when you find yourself? Death.

Death is universal, no matter the timeline, no matter the universe. It only makes sense that the Master of Death would be able to surf the time stream without consequences.

Harry gives him a small smile and does not object to his conclusion.

"Harry," Newt starts but before he could say anything else, Harry snaps his fingers once more and everyone and everything in the warehouse disapears.

"Well," Harry huffs, as if he hadn't just done something that Newt had thought to be impossible up until now, "That was fun."

* * *

Newt tries to ask Harry questions - namely where all the creatures had gone to - but all Harry said was "In a temporary pocket dimension I've created" which doesn't help Newt understand the situation any better.

"The creatures are safe Newt," Harry replies softly, "I will let them back on to this plane of existence once we have a good home for them."

"And the smugglers?" Newt doesn't really want to know what Harry had done with them but feels the need to ask anyway.

"The ministry," Harry laughs, "With a nice little letter explaining their crimes. They should be in prison pretty soon."

A little relieved that he hadn't just been witness to a mass murder, Newt falls silent, letting Harry guide them back in to the village center.

"Although I admire your determination Newt," Harry says as they walked, "But as your teacher, I have to ask." He takes a deep breath and nearly yells, "What the bloody hell were you thinking!?"

Newt jumps in shock.

"I…I…" he stutters, red-faced but no words comes out.

"You weren't, were you?" Harry sighs. "Look Newt, your love for magical creatures and your compassion for all lifeforms is something that should be encouraged. But, that does not mean I want you to do anything that would put yourself in danger. How can you help anyone if you are dead yourself? Just because I can bring you back doesn't mean-"

"Wait," Newt interrupts, his steps faltering, "Did you…Did you just say you can bring back the dead?"

Harry rolls his eyes.

"Only those who have been dead for less then 10 minutes," Harry explains patiently, "But that's not the point Newton. You cannot continue like this!"

"You know," Newt looks at Harry, his head tilted slightly to one side, "There is something I've been wanting to ask you. Why do you care?"

Harry looks a little taken aback.

"What?"

"Why do you care?" Newt repeats slowly, "You don't seem like a magical creature lover. Or at least you don't see them as more or less important then any other living being. If I am correct in my assumptions, you are one of those visionaries who makes decisions based on the bigger picture and I truly doubt my contributions or future contributions are important enough to merit more then a footnote in your story. So I repeat, why do you care so much about me? Why did you come back to this time and actively seek me out? If you had left me alone, I still would have accomplished everything you saw me accomplish. Why did you interfere this time?"

Newt is somewhat proud of the fact that he had rendered Harry speechless.

"Wow," Harry finally lets out after a moment of stunned silence, "You can be pretty smart at times."

He chuckles a little.

"You're right Newt," He admits, "I hadn't been exactly 100% honest with you. Your role in all this does extend beyond simply ameliorating the life of magical creatures. I came back to this time because you, Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, have a power that no one else have."

Newt snorts.

"You got to be kidding me?" he is uncharacteristically frustrated by Harry's evasion techniques, "Me? Power that no one else have? That's hilarious. I'm just your average wizard. What do I have that no one else have? Be serious-"

"I am," Harry snaps, "I can't tell you more then this but be assured, you will soon see what I am talking about."

He turns to Newt, taking his hands in a death grip.

"Please," he says, "I can't do this alone. I need you."

Newt doesn't know if it was the please or the sincerity in Harry's voice that finally breaks him down.

"Fine," he grumbles and forces himself not to blush, "Although I don't know why you can't do it alone considering that your have the power of the three Hallows unified, but fine. I'll play along."

"That is because my powers comes with some restrictions," Harry explains, "The time stop thing? It only works for a short period of time. And there are other powers that you have yet to see but are also restricted. That is because the Master of Death is still a magical being and thus governed by the laws of magic. We - meaning I - are given a lot of leeways but we are not gods. We cannot destroy the universe with a snap of the fingers."

"Hah," Newt blinks, finding this new information a little reassuring for some reason. Maybe it helped shorten the space between he and Harry. "Who knew..."

* * *

Professor Viridian was waiting for them in front of the Three Broomsticks, his expression sterner then usual if that was possible.

"Newton Scamander," he hisses, "In all my years as a teacher, I have never met a student so moronic and inconsiderate as to do something like this! If Miss Tenson here hadn't seen you and alerted Professor Evans, you would have been dead by now! And what would I have told your poor parents? Have you lost your mind?"

"I know Professor," Newt replies, his head bowed respectfully, "I'm so sorry."

He turns to the girl standing next to the teacher and smiles.

"Miss Tenson is it? Thank you for alerting Professor Evans. I owe you a great deal for your foresight."

Maria looks happy at his acknowledgement.

"I spent the whole way here telling Mr. Scamander that he will be thoroughly punished for this," Professor Evans says and Newt blinks. "Detention for the next 2 month."

"Two month?" Viridian repeats angrily, "That's too short."

"Don't worry about that," Professor Evans smiles. "One detention with me is worth 3 detentions with another teacher. I am not one to play around when punishing my wayward students."

His conviction was so that Newt could almost see the moment Viridian caved.

"Then I'll leave Newt in your capable hands," Professor Viridian nods in satisfaction. "Now that's over. Mr. Scamander, do you require medical attention?"

 _You're asking me now?_ Newt thinks deliriously. What happened to health first?

"I'm fine." He glances at a blank faced Harry. "Professor Evans already patched me up." Although he hadn't really been hurt…just terrified.

"Professor Evans," Viridians turns to Harry, "Should I send Mr. Scamander back to school? It's not departure time yet but in these circumstances…"

"That's okay," Harry answers, "I have a small errand to run and would like Mr. Scamander's assistance if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Viridian shakes his head, "Helping teachers with their errands is something all students should do. Go on then…don't let me keep you."

"Come along Scamander," Harry says, already walking away without waiting for Newt.

"Wait up Professor," Newt calls out and after one last nod to Viridian and Miss. Tenson, he runs after the older man.

"Where are we going?" Newt inquires once they were far away from Viridian.

"We are going to Dervis & Banges," Harry answers, "Thought I would buy you a little present."

"A present?" Newt glances at him. "Professor. Aren't you encouraging my delinquent behavior by buying me a present instead of forcing me to write lines?"

"I really can't see you as a delinquent," Harry laughs, "But this isn't just a normal present; it's something to help you for later in life."

"Now you are being cryptic."

"Good," Harry smiles sideways at him, "You know what they say, a little mystery keeps the romance alive."

Before Newt could react, Harry had already turned the corner.

* * *

TBC.

Next Chapter: The Gift.


	6. Chapter 6: The Gift

**Recap from last chapter** : Harry rescues Newt and decides to give him a gift.

 **A/N:** Ratings may go up in the future.

 **Warnings** : Spoilers for the Fantastic Beasts movie.

* * *

 **Chapter 6 The Gift**

* * *

Located at the end of High Street, Dervis & Banges is a small but well-kept store that sells and repairs magical items. The only reason Newt even knows about this place is because, in the past, Leta had had to go there once to repair a remembrall that her parents had given her and that she had broken by accidentally dropping it on the ground. Apparently, those things weren't as shatter proof as the ad had promised.

However, that doesn't explain why he is here today.

"Why are we here?" Newt can't help but ask once more, seeing that Harry isn't going to volunteer any information. He tries his best to remember just what kind of trinkets Dervis & Banges sells but unfortunately comes up empty. When he had accompanied Leta that one time, he had been more focused on...other things and hadn't paid much attention to the shop's offerings.

"I told you," Harry grins, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, "I want to buy you a gift."

"You were serious?" Newt asks in surprise, "You know, I thought you were just joking and you actually had an errand to run. You really don't have to buy me anything. I never got you anything before."

Harry waves away his objections with one hand.

"I have money and I want to give you this gift. Don't protest Newton because you won't win this fight."

Without another word, he pushes open the shop door and gestures for Newt to pass.

The bell above the door rings at their entrance, alerting the shop owner - a grey-haired old man with a rather impressive mustache - who hurries over to greet them.

"Hello, how may I serve you today?"

"I want to buy a briefcase," Harry replies, taking a few steps towards the counter. With no other choice - and unwilling to continue protesting when there is a third party present - Newt follows along, taking in the decor. It is this reason that it takes him a few seconds to take in what Harry had just said.

 _A briefcase?_ Newt thinks in confusion. Why did Harry want to give him a briefcase of all things?

"Of course sir," the owner beams, looking as if he had just won a huge prize, "We have all kind of briefcases for your needs. Do you have any special requirements?"

"Something durable and ready to be charmed. It should last a long time without having to be repaired."

"Let me see." The owner turns on his heels and heads towards a cabinet from which he extracts a few samples. "Here are some of our most popular models. The dragonhide one would be the one I would recommend but it is quite expensive."

"Don't worry about the cost." Harry turns to Newt, placing a hand on the small of his back as he gently pushes him towards the display, "It's for you. Go and take a look."

Newt blushes at the intimate contact but manages to resist making a fool out of himself as he does what he is told.

"Ah," the shop owner smiles at them, an all-knowing glint in his eyes, "Buying a gift for your lover, are you? A wonderful choice; very practical if I do say so myself. My wife would probably say it wasn't romantic enough but I never understood how giving dead plants to someone is better."

Surprisingly enough, Harry does not correct the old man, instead laughing and agreeing that a briefcase made a much better gift then flowers.

Newt wonders if he should be reading something in to this or if this was just Harry simply going along with the flow of the conversation in order to avoid embarrassing the shop owner for coming to the wrong conclusion.

"Newt?"

Newt blinks, his thoughts interrupted.

"Sorry," he says quickly and returns his attention back to the briefcases.

Truthfully, Newt had never given any thought about the kind of briefcase he may want to possess. He had figured if he ever needed one, surely his mother would have an old one on hand for him - probably a hand-me-down from Theseus. Buying one for himself, when his allowance is pitiful at best, just doesn't seem like a good idea. Now however, with Harry offering to buy him one, he is caught unprepared.

He takes another few minutes to look over the different designs before settling on one with a more classical outer appearance. "I think this one looks good."

It was one of the bigger ones in the selection, looking more like a small suitcase then a briefcase.

"Wonderful choice," Harry says approvingly, looking slightly relieved for some reason. Newt narrows his eyes at him but before he could make a guess as to what the older man is thinking, Harry had already turned his attention back to the counter and is doing his best impression of a connoisseur. "Great workmanship." He touches the top with a careful hand. "Of dragonhide-make isn't it? It has that special feel about it."

"Yes, it is." The seller opens the case to show them the inside. "Will last you a lifetime, at the very least. In addition, this one comes with a great security feature. With one click, you can hide away the contents and only show the looker what you want them to see. Perfect for wizards traveling to Muggle areas."

Newt could see how that would be convenient.

"We'll take it. How much is it?"

The owner quickly writes down a price on a piece of paper and hands it to Harry.

"That's fine," Harry takes a look at the figure, puts the paper inside his pocket before counting out some money to hand over. Newt tries to see how much the case had cost, but since no one was cooperating, his efforts were in vain.

"It's a gift," Harry laughs, pushing him out of the store once everything is taken care off. The owner sends them off almost regrettably, which should have told Newt everything he needed to know about what kind of money Harry had just spent. "You can't ask for the price for a gift; it's rude."

"Fine," Newt sighs and takes his new acquisition in one hand. "Thank you."

He pauses.

"Why do I need a suitcase?"

"You'll see," Harry replies cryptically. "Come to my office after dinner and I'll show you."

* * *

They return to Hogwarts with the rest of the students and once arrived, Newt goes back to his dorm to freshen up for dinner and Harry returns to his office with the case.

After dinner, Newt takes the staircase up to the floor where the teacher offices were and knocks on the now familiar door to Harry's office.

"Come in," Harry calls out after a few knocks and Newt enters, making sure to close the door behind him.

"Good evening Professor," he greets, still a little hesitant about using the other man's first name as the latter had requested of him numerous times. He glances around the office for a clue as to why Harry had called him here but finds nothing out of the ordinary. "What are we doing today?"

Harry puts the suitcase on the floor and opens it with a flourish.

Newt stares down at it.

Was he supposed to react in some way?

"Get in," Harry encourages when Newt makes no move to approach.

Newt stares at him dubiously.

"What?" Harry laughs, "I'm serious. This case has been charmed with an Extension Charm so you can walk in no problem."

As if to show him it is perfectly safe, Harry steps in to the case and soon disappears in to its depth.

"Right," Newt mumbles to himself and follows suite. He knows that if he wants his questions to be answered, he will have to play along with whatever Harry has planned.

The moment he steps in to the case, he feels the ground beneath his feet give away and he free falls with a small yelp of surprise. Luckily, the distance to the bottom isn't too large so Newt lands on his feet with no problem.

"You could have warned me." He takes in the rather empty room he is now in and frowns. "Where are we?"

"Inside your suitcase," Harry explains excitedly, coming to stand beside him. "Come on, as this is only the shed area, there is really nothing to see here - you can change that later. For now whoever, the true wonders lies beyond that door."

He gestures to the only door in sight and motions for Newt to go towards it.

"Oh...sure."

He heads towards the door.

"Open it," Harry instructs when Newt stops just a few feet away. "Go on. You'll like it."

Newt extends a hand to grab the handle and pulls it open.

The moment the doorway was cleared, Newt's senses were immediately assaulted by the sound of roaring thunder, the refreshing scent of rain and the rich smell of fresh earth. Newt could feel all breath leave his body as he takes in the wide expanse of green land laid out just beyond the entrance; an entire new world filled with mountains and lakes and plains. Up above, a huge thunderbird - the one he had seen locked up in that warehouse - flies in circles, emitting delighted sounds as it does so, its excitement causing thunder to rumble and rain to fall in sheets.

Newt gasps, his body trembling with emotions.

"Wow," he lets out, voice coming out breathless with wonder. "This...this is incredible."

A few minutes ago, Newt's new suitcase had just been that; a suitcase. But now, everything had changed. The suitcase is his gateway to an entirely new world, one where magical creatures roamed free without fear of being captured.

A small meow suddenly interrupts Newt's enjoyment of the moment and he glances down, immediately recognizing one of the kneazles from the warehouse.

"Are those…" He should have guessed by now but he still wants to make sure.

He bends down to take the small creature in his arms, unable to believe that Harry had managed something on this scale in the amount of time it took him to take a shower and grab a bite to eat.

"Yes they are," Harry agrees, looking quite proud of himself, "I brought them back once I had all this done. Think of this as a pocket universe I've created using a modified version of the Extension Charm. You can extend it further if you ever need to do so, but for the moment, this size can adequately accommodate everyone here and their special needs. I figured, as a future magizoologist, you would like a place to be able to treat any injured creatures you may come across and this way, the creatures will feel right at home until they are ready to be released back in to the wild."

Newt turns to look at Harry then, his heart pounding and his face flushed, almost incapable of accepting the fact that someone had done something so incredible just for him.

"T...thank you," he stuttered, "I really don't know what to say...I…"

He takes a deep breath.

"Harry...this is more than I could have imagined. You've literally given me a new world. I don't know if-"

"You deserve it, Newt," Harry interrupts before he can continue, leaning slightly forward so he is more eye to eye with Newt, his gaze soft and fond, a lopsided smile tugging up a corner of his lips.

Newt suddenly feels light headed, giddy, as if his universe had just toppled on its axis; as if he is perceiving everything under a new light. In that moment, the world around them seems to disappear and all Newt could see is the green luminescence of Harry's eyes and all Newt could feel is the pounding of his own heart. Stupidly, Newt wonders if this is what it feels like to fall in love, sharp and sudden; the explosive realization that your heart is no longer your own.

Or perhaps, he thinks dazedly, to discover that you were already in love in the first place, to feel cherished and whole, even when the whole world is against you.

Newt had met Harry for the first time a few month ago, in the Great Hall during the welcoming feast, watching as a handsome man in his mid-thirties was introduced at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It hadn't been love at first sight or crush at first sight; but for some reason, Newt had felt a connection to Harry that was enough to prompt him to observe the man further instead of dismissing him as just another addition to the staff.

And the more he observed, the more Newt liked what he saw; Harry's compassion for others; his passion for teaching; his caring and understanding nature. Slowly, as the weeks passed, interest turned in to something more and no matter how Newt had justified it to himself and to Leta, he found himself slowly falling for the idea of Harry; of this strong and powerful wizard who wasn't below kneeling on the floor to console a crying child.

Some say falling in love after a few days of actually talking to the person is too fast; but in Newt's case, it isn't. Because all these past two days did was cement Newt's impression of Harry, transferring his feelings from the image of the man he held dear to the man himself. It was, in a way, destiny.

"Harry...I…" he hugs the kneazle closer to his chest for emotional support and the creature mewls once before settling in again. "I...I want to make you proud."

That had not been what he had wanted to say, no matter how true the sentiment is.

"You will Newt," Harry puts a hand on his shoulder, letting it linger a few seconds before retreating. "Just by being yourself. And I'll be there with you every step of the way."

"I'm glad," Newt blurts out, desperate for Harry to understand the enormity of his feelings, "I'm not very good with people. They often find me frustrating to deal with. I very much prefer the company of creatures but you are the exception. I want you to know that I have never felt this comfortable with anyone outside my family before. I like being with you."

 _And I want to kiss you._

Newt had never been the sort to be attracted to someone simply based on their physical appearance. For his body to react to another person, emotions need to be involved. Thus it really doesn't surprise him that the realization of his feelings for Harry also comes with the sudden desire to be closer to the other man on a more carnal level.

 _I want to hold you close._

And just like that, Newt abruptly realizes that this is it; this is the fairy tale ending most people search for their entire life; the one he had heard girls gush about in the privacy of their common room.

Newt may be young but he isn't a hopeless romantic. He knows that Harry is it for him - like his mother had known his father was it for her - and he is sure that he doesn't need a few years of experimentation with other people added by a few heartbreaks to be certain of his decision.

He wants to tell Harry all this; to make him understand what had just happened. But...it is too soon; Newt still isn't sure what Harry's thinking. He needs to take this one step at a time.

Newt's mother had always told him that if he's faced with an uncertain thing, he needed to do whatever he can to make it certain. The principle applies even in this case. If Newt isn't sure how Harry feels about him, he needs to change that.

He needs to court Harry and make him understand that unintentionally he had given Newt the greatest gift of them all; a sense of belonging and companionship.

* * *

 **TBC**


	7. Interlude: Miscommunication

**Interlude**

 **Miscommunication**

 **Takes place after Newt decides to court Harry**

* * *

 _Harry_

Harry likes Newt; he likes him a lot. Newt is funny, kind-hearted and passionate about magical creatures. He might be a little awkward at times but Harry just finds that unbelievably endearing.

So the point is, Harry likes Newt and he likes the relationship that is starting to take form between them; a relationship based on mutual understanding and trust.

Except, ever since the suitcase, Newt had been acting weird and Harry doesn't know why.

When Harry says "weird", he doesn't mean Newt is suddenly being evasive or actively trying to avoid spending time with him. On the contrary, Newt now spends more time then ever in his office - using detentions as an excuse for anyone interested enough to ask -, looking over at him whenever he thinks Harry isn't paying attention - and Harry always is because Auror habits are difficult to get rid of - and blushing profusely when Harry glances back. And to make things even more mind-boggling, Newt gets an almost dazed look on his face every time Harry gets too close - accidentally he might add -; when Harry doesn't actively shorten the distance between them, he does it himself, pushing his body against Harry's as if he is freezing and needs Harry's body heat to survive.

Harry knows that if Newt is anyone else - but mostly he is thinking of the thousands of fan girls he had encountered throughout his life - he would have thought that Newt had a crush on him and is trying to attract his attention.

But that was impossible…right?

Not only is Harry way too old for a young man still in his prime, the one thing Harry knows about Newt Scamander from the history books Hermione had gotten him to read is that Newt is straight and will be - or was, depending on your point of view - married to Tina Goldstein. Although the straight part hadn't been explicitly mentioned but Harry had assumed it to be so considering how Newt had never shown any interest of the male persuasion. This is one of the reasons Harry hadn't resisted flirting a little with the young man, enjoying the embarrassed reactions he got.

Except now, Newt is acting weird.

Harry sighs, passing a hand through his hair. Had he done something to make Newt behave this way? He doesn't think so, but he could be wrong. Hermione had always accused him of being oblivious when it comes to other people's feelings towards him, which is ironic since Harry had been hailed a prodigy in the field of politics by more then one party - some of whom actually hated him as a person.

But this isn't politics and Newt isn't a reluctant potential ally Harry is trying to charm to his side. Newt is quickly becoming a close friend and Harry really can't afford to mess this up, even if Newt's power isn't a big part of his plan. With all that said, Harry decides that he needs a third party view on the situation. Problem is, he doesn't have any close friends in this time who is both close to him and Newt. The only person he can think of who knows Newt somewhat - and has been his greatest champion during the expulsion debacle if Harry remembers his history correctly - is Dumbledore.

Perhaps he should ask Dumbledore?

No, that is unthinkable for now. Ever since learning the truth about Dumbledore, Newt's previous hero-worship of the man had turned sour; nowadays, Harry can't even mention Dumbledore's name without an aggravated look appearing on Newt's face. If the latter finds out that Harry had spoken to Dumbledore about him, he'll be properly cross.

No, Dumbledore is not an option, so the questions remains, what is Harry going to do?

* * *

Harry is given an unforeseen clue when Newt is late for their meeting that evening and when asked about the reason for his tardiness, he replies with "library" and blushes as if he had just admitted some dirty secret. Harry is momentarily taken aback by the response. He doesn't think Newt is lying - he has always been good at spotting lies - but would library really be such a source of embarrassment for the boy? Shouldn't Newt be proud of his studious ways?

Unless…

Unless…Newt had been there for less then pure reasons, like researching on something he doesn't want others to know. And considering his age, there was one thing Harry could think of...

Sex.

He should have guessed, Harry sighs to himself, deciding that he had really misread the situation. Really, what had he been thinking? Newt didn't have a crush on him or anything like that. Newt had been acting weird because he had questions to ask Harry and wasn't sure how to do so.

It suddenly all makes sense. Newt must have recently found someone he is interested in romantically and would like to take things to the next level. With that said, he probably sees Harry as a father figure and is trying to build up the courage to ask him about the next step - in other words, sex. In conservative 1920s Europe, parents probably did not actively seek their children out to give them the talk. Newt is probably ignorant of these matters and wants to learn more.

With all that cleared up, Harry should be happy for him…right?

Except, for some reason, he can't bring himself to feel that way.

Why was that? He muses to himself while Newt shifts a little bit under his assessing gaze.

"Harry?"

And there is this other thing; ever since he has started asking Newt to call him by his first name, the latter had shown a remarkable reluctance in doing so. However, recently, unless they were in public, Newt never called him anything else then Harry. This change is so out-of-the-blue that Harry still had difficulty acclimating to it. Was this Newt's attempt to make himself more comfortable with Harry so he can broach the subject? Maybe Harry should give him a little push…

"Sorry," Harry smiles, "Don't worry Newt. A little lateness is normal. I was just messing with you. Please, come sit."

Newt does so, sitting down in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

"Newt," Harry takes a deep breath, "You know you can tell me anything right?"

"Of course," Newt replies automatically, eyes wide with confusion.

"Good," Harry passes a hand awkwardly through his hair. He had never had children thus had never had the experience of giving the younger generation the sex talk. He really doesn't know where to start. Should he start by talking about safe sex and potential diseases or is that going to scare Newt off for good.

This, he decides, is like planning a battle.

"Look," Harry tries for smile but judging by Newt's recoil, he is probably coming off as slightly demented.

"Are you all right?" Newt asks, "Should I go get the nurse?"

He stands up, ready to run to the infirmary if need be but Harry stops him.

"It's just," Harry sighs, "I'm trying to decide if this is my place to say because of our relationship. I am your teacher and if you decide this conversation is too personal, I'll stop right away."

Newt sits down hesitantly.

"What are you talking about?"

"When a young man reaches a certain age," Harry begins, "he'll get urges; urges only certain activities can fulfill."

As soon as those words were out, a look of abject horror appears on Newt's face, but since he hasn't jumped up to strangle Harry just yet, Harry decides to soldier on.

"Those activities can be daunting at first but if you grasp certain fundamental rules, you will find-"

"Stop." Newt jumps up, face red, "I don't need you to give me a sex talk."

"Oh," Harry relaxes immediately, "Thank Merlin because I have never done that before."

He pauses before adding: "But Newt, not all information found in the library is accurate so feel free to ask me anything that you are unsure of."

"I didn't go to…Oh for Merlin's sake," Newt hisses out, "I'm leaving. And for the record, my parents already give me this talk."

Without another word, he left the office in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

For the next week, Harry finds himself strangely Newt-less as the boy in question refuses to even look at him without being forced to.

Harry, of course, is left baffled. Had there been a miscommunication of some kind?

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 7 Courting Rituals

**Chapter 7 Courting Rituals**

* * *

"You're in a bad mood."

Newt grumbles something inaudible and stuffs his face with pancakes.

"What did you say?" Leta asks, taking a seat next to him. Newt absent-mindlessly notices how tired she looked, her hair messier then usual and her makeup definitely not up to her usual standards. Is something wrong with her? Maybe he should ask, but she'll definitely refuse to answer so what would be the point?

"I said," Newt sighs, "I think I got rejected."

Leta, for once, does not mock him for his dejected tone, which should have told Newt all he needed to know about how terrible he looked.

"That's too bad," she peers at him over her suddenly appeared glass of pumpkin juice, "At least you confessed, right? Don't you feel much better now?"

Newt freezes at her words and Leta, the keen observer, immediately notices.

"You did confess right?" she repeats slowly, almost as if she can't believe she had to ask, "Otherwise, how could you have been rejected?"

"I didn't really confess," Newt admits, running a hand through his hair in agitation, "He made it clear he sees himself as my mentor, a father-figure when he did…something I am not going to tell you about…that only a parent would do."

"Hah," Leta looks bored again, all her earlier concern evaporating in to thin air, "Have you ever considered things from another point of view?"

"What do you mean?" Newt asks, genuinly flabbergasted, "What other point of view?"

"From his point of view, you moron," she snaps, "Maybe, and I'm just theorizing here, maybe he acted this way because he thought the situation dictated it? Maybe he thought that was what you expected of him?"

"What?" Newt chokes, "I never…"

"There was probably a miscommunication of some kind." She looks towards the teacher's table in contemplation, "Now that I think about it, he definitely looks the sort to miscontrue people's true intentions towards him."

She turns back to him then, her gaze sharp.

"If I were you, Newton," she shudders a little at that, as if the mere idea of being him repulsed her. Newt ignores it with the ease of someone who had spent the past 6 years being Leta's friend.

"If you were me?" he pushes and she continues.

"If I were you, I would declare my intentions straight-out, making it impossible for him to misunderstand."

That…actually makes a lot of sense, Newt decides, Leta is actually pretty good at giving out advice when she puts effort in to it. Who knew?

"That is a good plan," he says out loud, sending a grateful smile her way. "Alright, wish me luck. I'm off to the library to do some more research."

He stands up, finishing the rest of his drink in one gulp.

* * *

The library is thankfully nearly empty when Newt arrives so no one really notices his entrance - the librarian busily arranging some paperwork for once and the few students there were actually doing their own work, their heads buried in their books - so the young wizard makes a direct beeline to the back where all the courting related books were instead of wondering around aimlessly for a few minutes, pretending to not know what he was looking for.

Once he had found his usual table - a secluded one Newt hadn't seen other students use except him - he puts his bag in a chair and heads towards the shelves, not wanting to waste any more time. He has classes in 50 minutes after all and potions is not a period you wanted to be late for unless you liked being publicly yelled at by the professor for your "blatant disrespect for rules". Once is plenty enough in Newt's opinion.

Shuddering a little at the memory, Newt leaves his things and goes off to find the shelf where he had hidden the book he needed. After some searching - embarassingly enough, he had momentarily forgotten where it was - he finally extracts a well-worn copy of _Pureblood Courting Customs_ from where it was sandwiched between two bigger volumes and returns to his table.

Once there, Newt flips the book open to chapter one and revisits the part regarding the courtship offering.

As a product of a marriage between a witch and a muggle, Newt never had much experience with Pureblood courting rituals. His mother had once told him that her mother had tried to teach the finer details of the process but she had found it so mind-numbingly boring that she had sworn to herself, right there and then, that she was never going to marry a Pureblood, if only to avoid all these…complications. Newt however does not have the luxury of making the same decision because the man he had fallen in love with is a Pureblood and probably expects some sort of ceremony when it comes to courting.

Newt sighs a little, and begins to go over the general methods used to declare one's intention.

According to the book, the first step is the least strict. As long as your declaration is clear enough, you can do it any way you like. The most common one is to offer a gift or a courtship bracelet, similar to a promise ring. The bracelet is usually made of gold, silver or platinum and is charmed to display the intended's name. A basic version of the bracelet could be found in any stores selling magical artifacts.

At those words, Newt immediately thinks of Dervis & Banges and wonders how he is going to sneak off campus to make such a purchase.

 _Courting someone is definitely hard work,_ he thinks and closes the book.

He needs to go find Leta and ask if she has any ideas.

* * *

As it turns out, Newt is in luck because Leta had more then just an idea, she actually had a pair in her possession that she was looking for a way to get rid of.

"A gift from my cousin," she sneers, flipping her long hair over one shoulder. "He thought it would be funny."

"I don't understand," Newt blinks, "Why would it be funny?"

"Newton," she pats him on the hand condescendingly, "Courtship implies choice and do you think a lady in my position would be given the choice to chose her own partner?"

"Oh," Newt blinks again, cursing himself for not reacting fast enough. Arranged marriages. How could he have forgotten? "Sorry."

She rolls her eyes and opens her bag.

"Here," she takes out a box from its depth after a few moments of searching its content.

It is a simplistic white box with nothing written on it and contains two identical looking silver bracelets.

"You had them on you?" Newt asks, a little wrong-footed by how this situation was turning out.

"I knew you would be coming to pester me about them so I figured I should be ready," Leta replies with an elegant shrug, once again displaying an ability to foresee the future almost comparable to the Sight.

She leaves before he can say thank you, but he still calls out a "Thanks Leta" after her.

She doesn't bother to turn around and Newt watches her disappear around the corner.

"Alright," Newt says to himself, glancing at his watch. "Time for action."

* * *

After dinner, Newt makes his way to Harry's office and finds the man absent. Not at all discouraged, he gives the door the password Harry had told him - so you can come visit your creatures anytime, Harry had explained - and heads straight to the suitcase.

As soon as he steps inside, Mini, the small kneazle he had bonded with, comes over to greet him, mewling cutely until he bends down to pick her up.

"Have you been a good girl Mini?" he asks her and she blinks back at him, intelligent gaze almost assessing.

Newt rolls his eyes at her behavior and heads towards the treat cupboard where Harry had stored a few treats that the creatures may enjoy.

"Come on Mini, let's go visit the others."

For the next 40 minutes, Newt tours the suitcase-world, greeting each and everyone of its residents. The biggest ones in terms of physical size were Frank the Thunderbird, Ode the Europent, Demi the Demiguise and finally Macy the Occamy. Others include the family of kneazles - three male and two females including Mini - and a group of Murtlap. These were the creatures who hadn't recovered enough from the smuggler's rough handling and would be staying a while before being returned to the wild.

When Newt is almost done with his tour, something catches his eye, causing him to stop in his tracks.

A tree stump? With moving branches? No, these are not branches, he decides after a few seconds of careful observation. These are...twigs? Sentient twigs? He had never seen these creatures before.

"Those are bowtruckles," Harry explains, appearing out of nowhere and nearly scaring Newt to death.

"Oh Merlin," Newt gasps and Harry laughs.

"Sorry," he says a little apologetically, "I was about to say hi - I swear I was - but you were looking at the bowtruckles so I thought I should give you a little explanation."

"Where did you get them?" Newt turns back to the stump. The bowtruckles looks up at them curiosity, their beady little eyes unmoving.

"These little fellows had just lost their home due to deforestation," Harry explains, "When I saw them, I knew I had to bring them back."

Newt's heart warms a little at that.

"What are bowtruckles?"

Harry smiles at him before answering.

"They are sort of tree guardians and can be found in some areas in England and Scotland. They are notoriously shy however and usually need an offering before they let you close enough to touch them."

From the pocket of his coat, Harry extracts a bottle of black moving somethings.

"Wood lice," he explains, "They like that."

He pours the wood lice on the trunk and watches in fascination as a dozen little twigs converges on it, devouring it in a matter of seconds.

"Come Newt, I think we are okay."

None of the bowtruckles react when they approach and one of them even cautiously extended an arm to Newt.

Intrigued, Newt extends his own hand and watches as the small creature slowly climb its way up his arm.

"Looks like this one likes you," Harry laughs a little from his position by Newt's side, his arm pressed to Newt's. "He probably won't want to leave you now. Maybe you should give it a name."

Harry's hypothesis was proven correctly when the bowtruckle stayed clinging to his coat even after he had moved away from the stump.

Newt takes a few moments to debate on a name and finally settles on Pickett.

"Pickett," he says and sees Pickett make his way down his coat and settle in his pocket.

Harry looks amused.

"Why Pickett?" he asks, and Newt shrugs a little.

"That's the first thing that came to mind," he admits and Harry nods in understanding.

"I hope Pickett will make a good friend," Harry says with genuine affection and Newt stares at him, unable to believe that someone so wonderful could exist. "Oh by the way Newt, did you want to see me this evening or did you simply come to visit your creatures?"

Newt is suddenly reminded of the bracelets in his pocket.

"Harry," he takes a deep breath. After this, there would be no going back. "I need to give you something."

* * *

TBC


	9. Chapter 8 Courtship Bracelets

**Recap from previous chapter** : Newt meets Harry after dinner and gets ready to give him the courtship bracelets he got from Leta.

* * *

 **Chapter 8 Courtship Bracelets**

* * *

Newt's hand trembles a little as he extracts the bracelets from his pocket, the enormity of what he is about to do constricting his chest, making it hard for him to breath.

Newt Scamander is not a risk taker by nature - if he had been, he would have been sorted in to Gryffindor. Unlike Theseus - who enjoys the adrenaline rush of undertaking tasks that had equal chances of succeeding or blowing up in his face - Newt prefers the easier solutions; the proven solutions. If you were to give him the choice between two options; the first option having been proven in the past to be successful and the second option unproven but with the possibility of a bigger reward, he would choose the former every time.

However, that does not apply when decisions involves things Newt is passionate about, such as magical creatures and now, Harry.

Even if he doesn't doubt the rightness of his choice, he still can't help but feel nervous.

 _This is it_ , he thinks as Harry continues to watch him in an half-expectant, half-curious manner, waiting for Newt to take out whatever he had brought with him. _This is it;_ _the moment of truth_.

The moment that would either make or break his relationship with Harry.

Because Newt isn't an optimistic idiot. He knows that if Harry rejects him right now - with all his cards on the table so to speak - there would be no going back to the way things were, no matter how hard they both try. For there would always be this sliver of awkwardness hanging between them, like a stubborn odor refusing to go away. And, this awkwardness will grow in strength, eventually overpowering their desire for normalcy and inevitably tearing them apart as it probably did with numerous other relationships. But as scary as that sounds, Newt is still determined to get his point across.

 _This is the tipping point; the point of no return,_ Newt thinks and wonders if his chest is going to explode at the rate it was pounding away in his rib-cage. Doctors should put out a warning that this love thing really isn't good for one's cardiac health.

Newt takes another deep breath and holds the bracelets in his palm for one moment, the cold metal feel of the silver construction keeping him somewhat grounded.

 _Do it Newt_ , he thinks resolutely, _Do it. This is what you want. It may seem scary now but it will be worth it..._

 _...or at least I hope so._

After shaking his head to clear his negative thoughts, Newt extends his hand towards Harry and shows him the bracelets.

"I hope," he closes his eyes as he begins his somewhat prepared speech, his face flushed, "I hope you can accept this."

 _…accept me_ , he doesn't say but he figures Harry is intelligent enough to hear it anyway.

But apparently not because after a few moments of looking at the bracelets - a few moments that felt like an eternity for Newt - Harry takes them both and asks in a nonchalant voice that is definitely not feigned: "Thanks Newt. That is very nice of you. But I have to ask, what's the occasion?"

Newt nearly chokes on his own saliva. Did Harry just say what he had thought he said? It almost seems as if Harry...

"You," he coughs a few times, trying to get his breathing under control, "You don't know what this is?"

The book had made it seem that any Pureblood would recognize the gesture without further explanation needed. Had it been wrong? Or was Harry only acting ignorant to let Newt down easy?

"Bracelets right?" Harry looks confused, seemingly unable to understand why Newt is acting this way. "Are they protection bracelets? Oh Newt, you shouldn't have."

Newt stares at him. Harry isn't acting ignorant to let him down, he realizes after a while. Harry really doesn't know what they were.

"Harry, did you say you were a Potter?"

"Yes," Harry looks a little taken aback by the non-sequitar but still gamely plays along.

"You're a Pureblood, right?"

Harry shrugs, which is not the answer Newt is looking for.

"What does that even mean?" Newt pushes.

"I'm kind of a Pureblood, but I have never received any formal Pureblood training as many Heirs and Heiresses do. I was raised by muggles."

And that explains so much.

Newt resists the urge to bash his head in to a wall. If he had know Harry had not received any Pureblood training, he never would have bothered with all this courting nonsense. He would have asked Harry on a date like a normal person instead of giving him a bracelet with Newt's name on it, declaring to all those who recognizes it that Harry was taken.

Okay, on second thought, that does sound pretty good, thinks Newt, remembering the amount of attention Harry received on a daily basis from both girls and boys alike.

"Oh," Harry suddenly cries out, his eyes widening in understanding. Newt looks back at him. "Is this a pureblood thing?"

"Yes," Newt sighs, feeling all adrenaline leaving his body. This evening had officially derailed off course. "It's a courtship bracelet; once both parties put it on, the bracelets will be magically altered to display your intended's full name."

The gasp of breath he hears from Harry and the shocked expression the older man sends his way were definitely worth the trouble, Newt decides.

"C…Courtship bracelet?" Harry stutters for the first time since Newt had met him. It is actually reassuring to see the usually suave gentleman persona Harry wore on a daily basis could disintegrate under a big enough shock.

"Yes Harry," He smiles, feeling a little hopeful when Harry hadn't made any attempt to reject him.

"You want to court me?" he sounds so young like this, his voice slightly breathless, his emerald green orbs wide with wonder.

"I do," Newt confirms, knowing it is no time for coyness.

"But…But…You're…"

Here it is. Newt closes his eyes and hopes the next words won't be either "too young" or "a student" or "a man".

What he doesn't expect Harry to say was…

"But you're straight."

"I'm what?" Newt repeats, knee-jerk, momentarily thrown off balance.

"Straight, as in you like women."

Newt gives him a very weird look.

"What gave you that idea?" he wants to know. In his memory, he had never broached the topic of romance with Harry or discussed anything related to what he looks for in potential partners. With all that said, why would the man assume that he was sorely interested in the opposite sex?

"You were married to a woman," Harry says as if that explains everything.

"No I wasn't," is his reflexive answer before he remembers that Harry isn't just a normal wizard Newt is trying to court; Harry comes from the future; Newt's future to be more exact. No wonder he has some misconceptions about Newt that seems to have come out of nowhere. He looks at Newt and probably sees a future version of him, one who was or will be married to a woman.

Suddenly, Newt knows he has to clear up some things right here and now before it ruins everything.

"I don't like labels," he explains patiently, "I'm only attracted to a person if I feel an emotional connection with them."

He hopes that sounds like something that Harry would accept.

Harry nods.

"You're pansexual," he says and at Newt's confused expression, adds, "Future term."

Of course, Newt thinks exasperatedly, of course there was a term for it in the future. The future is probably a place where being "unconventional" is the "conventional" thing to do.

"So…" Harry passes a hand through his hair. "You're attracted to me?"

Attracted is such a weak term, but in an effort to not scare Harry away, Newt nods. If Harry only understand love in terms of attraction, then Newt is just going to have to adjust.

"Enough to want to court you," Newt says, wondering where the nerves from earlier had gone to. Strangely enough, the more unbalanced Harry looks - and isn't that a sight he had never had the privilege of witnessing before -, the more confident Newt feels.

"I thought," Harry blushes and Newt watches in fascination as the color creeps down his neck to the open collar of his shirt. "I thought you found some girl you were interested in and wanted to ask for advice. When I saw you blushing at the mention of library, I thought you were there to research…"

He trails off but Newt could fill in the blank just fine.

"I was there to research Pureblood courtship rituals," Newt explains quickly. "I wanted to do things the right way."

"But that turned out to be unnecessary," Harry smiles crookedly at him. "But I have to say, I feel honored by the amount of effort you put in to this."

"Honored enough to give me a chance?"

Harry's expression falters a little at that and Newt feels his heart sink in response. Is Harry going to reject him?

"Newt," Harry sighs tiredly and looks away from him as he continues, almost as if he couldn't bear seeing Newt's reaction to what he is about to say next, "I'm honored, I really am but you have to understand that being with me…will be difficult. I'm not your average wizard and I am not saying that to boast. I'm a war veteran with a mild case of PTSD; I get horrible nightmares that wakes me up in the middle of the night and will definitely wake any other person I may have in bed with me. I sometimes get extremely paranoid and have difficulty trusting people. I have horrible off-days where I don't even want to talk to those close to me."

He takes a deep breath, fortifying himself.

"What I'm trying to say is that you could do better then this." He turns to Newt and gives a heart-brokenly sad smile, "You can do better then this old man who-"

"Who is kind-hearted, passionate about helping others and makes me happy," Newt interrupts hotly, unable to continue letting Harry degrading himself in this manner. It had gone on long enough as it is. "Harry, you're MY choice. I want you; I want you in my life forever. I want to wake up in the morning beside you. I want to be there to comfort you after a nightmare. You are made for me, can't you see that?"

Shoulders hunched, head bowed and fists clenched by his side, Newt tries to regain composure, his eyes burning with unshed tears, his mind too involved in the moment to even cringe at the cheesiness of what had just came out of his own mouth.

"I know I'm not exactly your dream partner," he carries on bravely, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, "I'm terrible at social interactions; I like my beasts more then I like humans; I start babbling when nervous and I can get pretty clumsy for no reason, and that includes the innate ability of tripping on nothing. But, I am a hard-worker when it counts and I will try my best to make you the happiest man on Earth. So, please Harry…give me a chance to prove myself."

His body starts to tremble a little with his last words, as he waits for the final verdict, his head bowed, like a prisoner on trial.

A few minutes passes in silence without any reactions from the older man and just as Newt wonders if Harry had left - and what a terrible thought that was - he nearly jumps in surprise when he feels Harry gently lift his chin back up with two fingers so that Newt had to look at him in the eye.

"Well Newt, that was some speech." Harry says, still looking a little off-balance but is trying his best to hide it. "I'm glad you told me how you felt. I guess we both have our cross to bear."

"All truth," Newt assures him.

Harry's expression clears a little at and his smile becomes more natural as he asks the next question: "Are you sure you want to put up with me for the rest of our existence? You have to be sure because I am not one to change my mind in matters such as these."

"I'm sure," Newt replies resolutely, grabbing Harry's forearms in a tight grip, desperate to make him see, "I have never felt surer in my life."

Harry nods and seems to have come to a decision.

"If that's how you feel then I'll be honored to accept your offer of a courtship."

The moment Newt's processes those words, Newt collapse on to the ground with relief.

"Oh thank Merlin," he chokes out, taking a few labored breath, "Oh, that was the most terrifying thing I ever had to do."

Harry laughs breathlessly before leaning down to help him stand up once more.

"I can imagine. That is why I never take initiative." he grins and offers one of the bracelets to Newt, "But I'm glad you did. Now that's over, I think you should be the one to put it on me."

Newt wordlessly takes the bracelet and unceremoniously slips it on Harry's offered wrist, the metal resizing automatically to fit its new owner.

"Here," Harry takes the other bracelet and with gentle hands, takes Newt's wrist and puts it on. As soon as both bracelets were in place, there is a gentle shine as the magic deep within them starts to work. Newt sees his own name appear on Harry's bracelet and resists the urge to grin like a loon.

"So," He looks up from his contemplation to see Harry looking back at him, his head tilted to one side, "I guess now we should…"

Newt's eyes widens a little as he gets the meaning.

"Oh…"

"I mean," Harry shrugs in a what-can-you-do sort of way, "It is tradition."

"Well," Newt bites his bottom lip as if hesitating, "Since I already went this far for the sake of tradition, it wouldn't make sense to start breaking it now…"

He springs forward then and without further ceremony, leans in and presses his lips to Harry's.

What had started out as a rather chaste first kiss between two new lovers - a first kiss to celebrate the change in their relationship - turns quickly in to something more as Harry snakes his arms around Newt's waist and pulls him closer, forcing their bodies together without an ounce of space in between.

For Newt, the touch of Harry's lips to his was unlike anything he had ever experienced before; a high that made his head dizzy and his body weightless. It made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the other man's presence and the feeling of the other man's magic enveloping him in its warm cocoon.

"Harry," Newt moans softly, feeling Harry's tongue snake in to his mouth, his body reacting in the only way it knows how, his magic whirling uncontrollably around them.

"Too much?" Harry asks breathlessly, his hand tangled in Newt's hair.

Newt laughs and is about to reply when he feels something crawling up his chest to his neck.

He glances down, a little perturbed.

"Pickett!"

The bowtruckle stares up at him with a very displeased expression and Newt realizes that their passionate embrace must have disturbed his sleep.

"Sorry," The moment officially broken, Harry finally lets Newt go and gives Pickett a small pat of apology, "Got carried away."

"My fault as well," Newt blushes, unable to believe that _that_ had just happened, "I didn't know you could kiss like that."

"Shouldn't I be the one to say that?"

Harry grins a little and takes Newt's hand in his, the movement natural despite how new it should feel.

"You know, these bracelets are pretty neat."

He grins deviously.

"I like the idea of having my name around your wrist."

Newt shakes his head in amusement and looks down for the first time at his new piece of jewelry…and blinks as he takes in the engraving.

"That's weird," he says, a little confused, "It doesn't say Harry Potter here."

"What?" Harry glances down as well.

"It says Harold James Peverell." Newt pauses. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Peverell you say, that's probably because it's the name of one of the most famous Pureblood families in wizarding history, one of the first lines to go extinct in the male line, although they do have a lot of descendants through their female lines," Harry replies in the tone of someone who had spent a lot of time pouring over that information. "In terms of political power, the Peverells have many unclaimed seats in the Wizengamot and has enough political clot to influence the direction of future legislatures if someone were to claim them.

Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus Peverell are famous in their own right as they have been thought by many as the three brothers mentioned in the tale of Three Brothers; the Peverell coat of arms is actually the symbol of the Hallows I have shown you.

IoIanthe Peverell was the granddaughter of Ignotus Peverell, one of the original Hallow possessors, and later married in to the Potter family. The Invisibility Cloak, one of the three Hallows, was given to her as there were no male heirs to receive it. Although the Potters are descendants of the Peverell line, there should be no conceivable reason why a magical artifact such as the courtship bracelet would consider me a Peverell and not a Potter."

Harry's eyes flashes with excitement, looking up from Newt's wrist to his eyes.

"You have tomorrow afternoon off right?" he suddenly asks out of the blue and Newt blinks a little, thinking back to his schedule.

"Yes," he answers cautiously because right at that moment, Harry's expression is reminding him strongly of Theseus just as he was about to do something he considers "fun" - and if you didn't know, his and Newt's definition of "fun" differs greatly, "Are you planning something?"

"We are going to go visit someone who knows bloodlines better than I know how to walk."

"There is someone like that?" Newt is admittedly a little taken aback by the conviction in Harry's voice.

Harry grins like a child on Christmas morning.

"Of course there is," he answers, "And you must have seen them before."

"Who?"

"The goblins at Gringotts of course."

TBC

* * *

TBC.

Next Chapter: Inheritance


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